


Silent Screams

by RoaringRaina



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (i got ya covered fam), (kinda), (tags to be updated along with the chapters), (that's the intent in the end), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Comfort, Disbandment, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Mystery, No Spoilers, Other, Pining, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vocalist!Byleth, YES BETA WE LIVE UNLIKE GLENN, also:, guess it's time for this:, i didnt get the cyril/lys ending in my gdeer running so im writing it myself, i think we would all prosper with bff lysithea ngl, i'll be updating the tags as we get further into the story to prevent ~spoilers~, whos gonna stop me???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoaringRaina/pseuds/RoaringRaina
Summary: "They stare at each other for a while. Byleth can’t help but realise just how attractive the young man in front of her is. His sudden appearance had baffled her; not many people would walk into an abandoned cafe on a Sunday morning. Much less hang around to watch a young woman walk circles around a stage.Byleth hates to admit it, but she’s intrigued by this Claude figure."
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, background: cyril/lysithea, background: marianne/hilda, other relationships to be added!
Comments: 52
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been ages since Byleth last stood on this stage. Exactly five years today, in fact. 

It’s a bitter thought that clasps around her heart as she turns to her left, where Edelgard used to stand. The girl would have given her a smile, one that would appear confident and cocky to the audience in front of them but soft and shy to her. Her fingers would move across her bass guitar, keeping the rest of them in line with her solid notes and demanding presence. 

Dorothea would be right behind her, fingers gliding across the keyboard with grace and ease. She would cheer into the microphone, her backing vocals strong and enthusiastic. Nobody could resist cheering when Dorothea sang, not when she would wink ever so subtly into the audience stealing the hearts of men and women alike. 

Byleth shakes her head, the ghosts of her former band members taunting her when she turns to her right, where Leonie would have banged out the greatest beats on her bright orange electric guitar. She would huff if she noticed Byleth’s lingering gaze, her eyes softening just ever so slightly. She and Byleth always had the weirdest energy, but it worked on stage. It added fun, it added rivalry, it added spice. It kept fans hooked on to their antics, making the talks between songs so much more bearable for Byleth. 

Byleth closes her eyes, not bothering to turn around to envision Hilda hammering away on the drums. For someone who had always tried to get everyone else to do all her chores, no one was more motivated to take up the drums than Hilda had been. It was like she stored all her energy during the day to let it out during their gigs. She was consistent, steady and she loved the attention during her solos most. A bright smile, a few tricks here and there and Hilda was in her element.

Byleth missed her ladies, missed their energy, missed the music they were so proud to create. She missed the fun they had on stage, the fun they had during practice, the late nights talking about anything and everything as Leonie would play them a tune she had picked up somewhere, with Dorothea humming and whistling a song she didn’t know the lyrics to. 

Byleth missed the moments where she stood in the spotlight, lights on her as she provided the vocals their rock band needed. Byleth never liked being the centre of attention. She had been regarded as unexpressive, her emotions locked away behind a face that would prompt Hilda and Dorothea to bet whether there was Wii music or generic elevator music playing in her brain. 

But on that stage, with a microphone in hand and her girls beside her, Byleth blossomed. She turned into someone else while remaining exactly who she was. She didn’t taunt her audience, didn’t engage like Dorothea and Hilda did. She wasn’t the strongest presence, how could she have been with Edelgard around? She wasn’t the powerhouse, a bundle of energy like Leonie. Byleth was the baseline they could depend on. She was the one who supported them, not from the shadows but from the spotlight and somehow made them shine brighter. It was Byleth’s pleasure to be the vocalist of the Silent Screams, to have earned that title through gruelling vocal lessons from Dorothea. She had learned to put her feelings (yes, she did feel things just like any other human being) into words and turned the words into music. Music that had touched countless people, judging by the increased size of their audience with every gig. 

Byleth opens her eyes, the lights in the small rundown cafe dim. She briefly wonders if it would make any difference if they were off, by how little they illuminated the cafe. Her body feels heavy underneath the memories of a past she can’t let go. A past that has been weighing down on her for the past five years. 

“Hey buddy, you really shouldn’t be up there.”

A voice pulls her out of her thoughts and Byleth squints into the dark, trying to locate the source of the voice. She crouches down and jumps off the stage, noticing the young man -who can’t be more than a few years younger than her- walk towards her. 

“The stage hasn’t been checked in forever, I would not recommend walking on it.” He smiles at her, hands folding behind his head. His green eyes twinkle with interest, as he continues, “Though I am curious why you were up there.”

Byleth turns to glance at the stage over her shoulder. “I was,” she starts, unsure what to call it. 

Was she just being sentimental? Chasing a dream she knows had turned into a nightmare? Wishing for things she knows can never be again? Feeling sorry for herself? Feeling sorry for what had been lost? For the tragic not-quite-disbandment of her band but rather the complete lack of communication between her and her girls for the past five years? Was she trying to push herself down a tunnel of guilt and regret, opening doors on chapters of her life she should have closed years ago? Remembering an anniversary that shouldn’t be celebrated but mourned? 

Byleth looks at the man in front of her, unsure how to bring all those thoughts across to him. How to turn the feelings into words. A painful pang shoots through her heart at the realisation that used to be her thing; turning feelings into words. 

“I was,” Byleth tries again and this time pushes through the hazy fog blocking her way to actual human language, “just visiting old memories.” 

It doesn’t come close to describing the turmoil in Byleth’s mind or the hurt that accompanies realising they are in fact old memories; not aspects of her current life. It scratches the surface of all everything she feels. The sadness, the loneliness, the anger and the regret. It’s there, she thinks, in the sharp line her mouth draws as she watches the man in front of her nod slowly. If the stranger is put off by her vague answer, he doesn’t show it. Instead, it seems to intrigue him further.

“Quite the visit I’d say, you looked very far away,” he says, his eyes still twinkling underneath the poorly dimmed light. He wears a smile as he extends his hand, “The name is Claude. Nice to meet you.”

Byleth looks at his hand and back to his eyes and sees no malice. She takes it, offering her name with a small smile, “Byleth.”

They stare at each other for a while. Byleth can’t help but realise just how attractive the young man in front of her is. His sudden appearance had baffled her; not many people would walk into an abandoned cafe on a Sunday morning. Much less hang around to watch a young woman walk circles around a stage. 

Even if they were a good samaritan who just wanted to look out for her and the apparently “dangerous” stage. 

Byleth hates to admit it, but she’s intrigued by this Claude figure. It’s not just the fact he has eyes as green as the forests she would visit with her father when she was little. That his eyes sparkle with mischief, like the little river near her childhood home sparkled in the sunlight. She bets his eyes would shine in the most beautiful shade of emerald had they been outside in the sun instead. 

If Claude notices her staring, he is courteous enough to pretend otherwise. Byleth hazards a guess and thinks he doesn’t notice because he seems to be just as occupied checking her out as she is him. His eyes trail down her figure, resting on her face at last. He shoots her a wink and shrugs, seemingly feeling caught in the act of staring but not at all guilty. 

“What do you say Byleth, we get out of this dimly lit cafe and go somewhere they might actually serve us decent coffee?” Claude pulls up one eyebrow when Byleth stares at him. “It’ll be my treat. You can introduce me to your memories.”

“No.” Byleth is surprised by her own curtness. “No to the memory introductions. They are mine.”

Claude nods slowly, his smile finally having left his face. He looks older, more mature. Byleth wonders what he has been through for his eyes to harden like that. Harden in a way that makes her feel like he knows what it’s like to hide memories from the world. His voice is surprisingly even when he responds, “That’s fair.”

“But I would like the coffee.” Byleth adds quickly, her eyes following the way his lips curl back into a smile. Having seen his face without a smile and now seeing it form again, something puts her off. There is something about his smile that makes her want to tilt her head and stare at him some more. 

Something about it is _wrong_ , but she can’t figure out why. It’s almost like his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, she thinks, like he’s wearing his own type of mask.

“The cafe I want to introduce you to is only a few streets away. I promise you, it’s good. Two of my close friends run it together, you’ll love it.”

Byleth allows herself to be escorted out, taking one last look at the stage before heading through the door Claude holds open for her. She turns her back on the ghosts on that stage, all looking younger and more carefree. Byleth knows that if she were to look into a mirror, her appearance would not match up to her past at all. 

With her head caught in the musings of past days and memories that refuse to be forgotten, Byleth misses the way Claude lets his gaze wash over the cafe, his lips drawing a hard line. He settles on the stage, looking at the green mess of Byleth’s hair, and back to the stage. He ultimately shakes his head before closing the door, catching up to Byleth, lips forming into a smile effortlessly.

***

Claude had promised good coffee and she had to hand it to him, he hadn’t lied. It was good coffee. Very good coffee.

“You really think so?” Claude asks, taking a sip from his own mug, when she tells him as such, “You don’t look like you’re enjoying it.”

Byleth frowns, putting her cup down with perhaps too much force. Byleth quickly looks up to the bespectacled man behind the counter, Ignatz, as Claude had introduced him, and murmurs an apology in his general direction. “People say that a lot.”

“That you don’t look like you’re enjoying something?” Claude asks. He leans forward on his arms, resting his chin on his interlocked hands. It has something very playful, Byleth thinks as she leans back against the cushions of the couch. Something playful weren’t it for the way his eyes seem to pierce through her skin and look straight at her soul.

“That I don’t show emotions.” Byleth hears herself answer, dropping her head down. She plays with a piece of lace that’s coming loose on her leggings. “People say I’m not very expressive.”

Claude seems to think this over. He looks outside the window, allowing Byleth to admire his side profile. His skin seems to glow in the slightly orange lights the cafe has been decked out with. His jawline is taut and Byleth wonders what he’s thinking. What thoughts could harden his face like that? 

But when Claude turns to face Byleth again, all the hardness has left his face. He smiles, dimples forming and Byleth is suddenly feeling hot, and says, “Just because you don’t show your emotions on your face, doesn’t mean you’re not expressive.”

Byleth stares at him openly now. His words echo inside her mind as she accidentally pulls the bit of lace too hard and it snaps. She gasps as she looks down at her leggings, examining the damage.

“That display of emotion tells me you’re flustered,” Claude announces with a sing-song voice, a twinkle in his eye as he watches Byleth pull her skirt down so the little hole is obscured. She doesn’t care it shows off more of her bare stomach, a detail Claude does seem to care about. His ears turn slightly pink but after two coughs into his fist, the colour fades as soon as it appears. 

“Like your pink ears tell me you were flustered?” Byleth crosses her legs and leans forward on the table, mimicking his earlier pose.

Claude looks at her, blinks a few times and then throws his head back in barking laughter. The brass sound startles Byleth slightly. Once recovered, she allows herself to sink back into the cushions of her seat, watching as one of Claude’s hands rests on his chest, the other coming up to obscure his mouth and smother the sound. Byleth wants to tear his hand away, to allow his laughter to fill up the entire cafe, but controls herself. 

The sound of his laughter makes her feel like she’s swallowed a bottle of butterflies. A bottle of pure gold and sunshine, warmth spreading across her chest. It reminds her of the first time she stood on stage. The first time the spotlight was on her and her girls and the cheers that followed the fading beats of the song they played.

The warmth fades before it has a chance to settle - the memories of her band making both her heart and her body freeze up. She can feel something in her face shift, like she’s putting on a mask to hide what she’s feeling inside and Byleth hates it. Hates the way her body protects her by making her appear like a robot. 

“Byleth?” Claude’s voice is laced with worry and concern and she looks up with a slight startle. “Byleth, are you okay?” Claude reaches for her hand and Byleth pulls away quickly. 

She decides she hates the way Claude’s handsome features are mushed together to form concern. She doesn’t like this, this feeling of him staring straight into her soul. That he’s able to get underneath her mask and realise all of her vulnerabilities are there, if only someone bothered to thoroughly look at her. 

Like her girls used to look at her.

“I apologise,” she mumbles, rubbing her hands together before tightening them around her mug. She ignores the way Claude’s eyes are glued to her fingers, trying her best to stop them from shaking. She gulps down her cold coffee instead, the taste so bitter she wants to pull a face. 

“No, I should be apologising.” Claude scratches at his temple with an embarrassed, almost sheepish look on his face. “We only met this morning after all, going for hands and such feels like I’m moving too fast.”

Byleth tilts her head at him, watching him with interest. “What do you mean?”

Claude shakes his head as he shrugs. “If you don’t get it, it’s okay. Let’s just say, I feel like I’ve known you forever and it made me act hastily, that’s all.”

“We met this morning?” Byleth reminds him, a smile slowly forming on her lips.

Claude makes a good point however, it _does_ feel like they’ve known each other forever. Like going out for coffee and talking about feelings while not using words to discuss those feelings was their thing all along. Like they did nothing else on their Sunday mornings except coffee dates.

Byleth realises with a slight jolt it scares her. The familiarity with which Claude treats her. That he’s too relaxed around her, reads her too well for someone she only met this morning. 

“I think I should get going.” Byleth watches the smile on Claude’s face crack for just a second before he nods. 

“I have things I need to do too. It was very lovely meeting you though.” He reaches for his phone and attempts to hand it to her. “I would love a repeat of this,” he says with a wink. 

Byleth contemplates the offer and when he bats his eyes at her, green eyes twinkling with mischief and hope, she gives him her number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I am so excited to share this story with you guys! I hope you'll enjoy it! For now I plan to update roughly every two weeks, depending on how life goes I guess.
> 
> Before I thank you all for reading, I'd like to give a quick shout out to my lovely beta krmochis! Thanks lovely!! ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope to see you for the next chapter too!  
> Have a nice morning, day, evening, or night!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea "I only know how to give bad therapy" von Ordelia makes her grand entrance and Claude texts Byleth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time!! Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment and kudo on the first chapter, every email notification makes my heart burst with excitement and gratitidue! I hope you guys will enjoy the next chapter too. The formatting was a pain so if it looks wonky, please bear with me >.<

It had been a few weeks since their first impromptu coffee date.   
  
Byleth and Claude had yet to go on a second date, much to Byleth’s dismay. They both had been busy - Byleth had been caught up with her work and Claude had complained about similar responsibilities preventing him from going out. 

Claude did text Byleth plenty as a compromise. His texts would range from topic to topic, some so abstract Byleth had asked her best friend to take a look at the letters on her screen.  
  
"I can't decide whether he's a fool or an idiot," is Lysithea's conclusion after Byleth shows her today's Mystery Text.  
  
Byleth takes her phone back, the combination of emojis and abbreviations making her wonder what is going on in Claude's mind.  
  
"Why would anyone on this planet wonder if mermaids call horses landhorses?" Lysithea seems occupied with Claude's question still and Byleth smiles fondly at her frown and crossed arms. “Mermaids don’t even exist! It’s so stupid!”  
  
Byleth scrolls through the conversation, amazed once again that this is truly the same guy she had discussed life philosophies with the night before. That this is the same guy who told her emotions are not only read on someone's face.   
  
"Are you even listening to me?"   
  
Byleth is snapped out of her thoughts by Lysithea's annoyed tone. "Sorry, Lys," Byleth says, smiling sheepishly. “You were saying?”  
  
Lysithea sighs, the movement exaggerated and dramatic. Byleth smiles; it's what she has come to expect from her. “I swear, you’re occupied with him. I don’t know what you see in him.”  
  
Byleth lets the words hang between them, silence filling the space. What _does_ she see in him? It’s only been a few weeks since they met. Only a few weeks and it feels like a lifetime.   
  
It doesn’t help that they text a lot. Byleth is usually not one for consistent social interaction. Even her girl nights with Lysithea are not as frequent as either one of them would like. But with Claude, it all goes so smoothly. They jump from topic to topic, the flow of the conversation easy and gentle. Even when their conversation reaches a natural end, she feels content.   
  
“I think he just intrigues me.” Byleth picks up a creampuff and takes a big bite, despite Lysithea’s whine.   
  
“I was gonna eat that!”   
  
Byleth hums, popping the remainder of the puff in her mouth. She chews excessively, watching Lysithea grumble and mumble. Byleth resists the urge to ruffle her hair, knowing the girl would probably kill her if she did. It would be worth it, Byleth reasons. Lysithea was too cute, too much fun to tease.  
  
“Do you think he’ll give you your spark back?” Lysithea’s voice is hesitant and Byleth blinks at her. The rest of the sweets lay forgotten on the coffee table in front of them as Byleth stares at Lysithea. “I mean, you were looking for something, weren’t you?”  
  
“It’s been five years.” Byleth’s voice is harsh. It’s been five years since her band fell apart. Since she _let_ it fall apart. “That’s five years of searching for a spark that’ll probably never return.”  
  
Lysithea crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back to send Byleth a glare. “You didn’t answer my question.”  
  
Byleth shakes her head. “I don’t wanna do this Lys, not now.”   
  
Byleth is tired of rehashing old “what-if’s”. She had tried finding inspiration in the past years. Met many people, but none of them had reawakened her desire to make music again. To rekindle the flames of creativity in her soul that had died out.  
  
“I know it’s been hard since So--”  
  
“Not a word Lysithea.” Byleth gets up from the couch, ignoring Lysithea’s slight startle. She moves over to the bookshelves on the opposite wall, pretending to be reading the spines.   
  
Byleth can hear Lysithea move behind her, and she knows her friend is trying to decide what to do. Comfort had never been Lysithea’s strong suit: being direct and saying it like it is, that was more her style. Having to be gentle with her words, trying to cross the bridge from rationalising emotions to actually feeling and expressing them is a tough one for her to travel. Byleth knows how difficult it is all too well. Maybe that’s why she feels a wave of shame come over her; it’s not like her to lose control of her emotions like that. Not like her to stumble over truths, especially not when Lysithea is the messenger.   
  
Byleth turns to face Lysithea, whose expression is a strange mix of concern and sadness. She looks so tiny, Byleth thinks as she watches how Lysithea has pulled her legs up and is hugging them tightly. Byleth’s hands twist themselves into her t-shirt, pulling at the hem. “I shouldn’t lash out at you, I’m sorry Lys.”  
  
Lysithea’s posture relaxes and she folds her legs underneath her. She shrugs, trying to go for a casual response. It would’ve been successful if she wasn’t facing Byleth, who has seen her try this one too many times to be fooled. Byleth does allow her to get away with it this time, though. They both had the habit of wearing masks; Byleth’s mask made her seem expressionless, Lysithea’s made her seem undisturbed by the world. Neither observation could’ve been further from the truth.   
  
“I shouldn’t be pushing your buttons so much. I knew what I was getting myself into,” Lysithea says, all earlier tension in her face lost. The younger girl pats the spot next to her and Byleth allows herself to sink back into the soft fabric of Lysithea’s couch.   
  
“I just don’t know what I think,” Byleth whispers as she pulls her legs up to rest her face against her knees. “I worry Lys, what if he is the spark that I need? I don’t have anyone to make music with anymore. Even if he is what I need, what do I do then?”  
  
Lysithea pats her back comfortingly albeit a bit awkwardly. “You know I don’t have the answers to that. All I know is how to give it my all and try harder than my best. I know you’ve tried that already.”  
  
Byleth nods, she _had_ tried more than her best and given it her all. Realising what she had lost, Byleth had spent a year trying to chase after them. It was an unsuccessful search, one filled with pain and Byleth had given up. She tried out other band members, for the year after that. She fluttered from place to place, but none felt _home_ . None had felt like home the wayEdelgard, Dorothea, Leonie and Hilda had felt. It felt nothing like what Silent Screams had. The idea of trying to go solo had never crossed her mind and after five years of not having come close to a microphone, Byleth wondered if she would ever find it in her heart to make music again.   
  
“I still miss them,” Byleth admits, looking up at Lysithea, “Does that make me weak?”  
  
Lysithea’s brows furrow as she shakes her head. “Makes you human.”  
  
Byleth huffs out a laugh, “Thank goodness we established I’m not actually some ancient goddess, huh?”  
  
Lysithea grins and shrugs. “Doesn’t suit you anyway. Now that we’ve filled our quota of pretty bad therapy for tonight, can I see some of the other dumb things Claude has asked you?”

***

Byleth is hunched over her desk, coursebooks open to the side as she prepares her next class. Her students have been making rapid progress, devouring all the extra information she provided with a level of motivation she wishes she possessed in high school. She pushes her glasses up, pinching the bridge of her nose. Fatigue and stress are wrapping themselves around her head and it’s giving her a headache.  
  
Byleth knows she should call it quits for the night, or at least turn her overhead lights on or get some painkillers. She has plenty of self-care options to choose from so she can nourish her health and her incoming headache. She glances at the books from the corner of her eye to her laptop with a half-finished PowerPoint and lesson plan.   
  
A groan leaves her lips as she sits up straight, feeling the cracks tapping up her spine. She takes her glasses off and tosses them onto her desk,   
  
“I’m a young adult trapped in the body of an 80-year-old,” she mumbles to no one in particular. Her cats are in the living room (probably, Byleth hadn’t seen them since they tried climbing her curtains for the _fifth_ time this evening) and she hadn’t had a roommate in forever. Not since her college days, she reminisces, getting up from her desk. Hilda had been an amazing roommate. They had connected even before Byleth had convinced her to join her makeshift band. Hilda loved to complain but never hesitated to make Byleth a cup of tea when she was feeling stressed and overworked. Never hesitated to call in the other girls and try to lighten her worries.  
  
Suddenly her apartment feels more empty than it usually does.   
  
Byleth passes through the living room on her way to the kitchen on her bare feet. She can imagine Jeralt scolding her, something about dying young if she kept walking on bare feet. The memory brings a grin to her face. Jeralt always warned her about how her actions would lead to an early death - “no walking around on bare feet,” “always dry your hair after a shower,” “never drink from any bottle that’s been open for longer than four days,” he would say.  
  
In hindsight, Byleth realises it was quite ironic he would pass away so soon. Her fingers close around the ring on her necklace, one of the few things she had taken from her childhood home before she left. She hadn’t particularly cared about the things Jeralt had left her. Based on his will, he had anticipated that. She was left with his personal belongings and this apartment he had bought in her name. Some things went to his best friend Alois, who Byleth hadn’t seen in a while.   
  
Byleth pours herself a cup of water and rummages through her medicine cupboard. She counts how many painkillers are left, her tongue clicking in annoyance once she sees she’s nearly out. It reminds her just how stressed she’s been lately. Work has been kicking her butt with new pilots to try out, more classes to teach, more responsibilities to carry.  
  
Byleth pulls out her “Number One Teacher” mug from her cupboard, a gift from her first year of students. It’s a light green mug with a throne. “Since you’re such a Queen!” one of her students had said cheerily. Byleth feels warmth spread across her chest as she remembers the memory fondly.   
  
It had been hard moving on from being a student to being a teacher, the step had felt too large. Not to mention Byleth’s struggles with her own mental health, having been dealt the worst hand at the most crucial time. She still wonders how she made it through it all, no band, no family to rely on.   
  
Just herself.   
  
She couldn’t bother Lysithea, who had been trying to get two degrees simultaneously while working as a research assistant for their professor. Byleth still wonders how Lysithea had managed it without collapsing on the spot.   
  
Byleth sighs, the action wearing her out more than she would like to admit. Adult working life is nothing like she had made it out to be. It's far more taxing and energy-draining than she anticipated. She thought all-nighters and feeling like a zombie dancing on a tightrope between appearing awake and being asleep was something she'd leave as a memory. A part of her college life, ready to be abandoned with 90% of the other things that made college so stressful.   
  
But no, Byleth thinks, bitterly watching the colour seep from her tea bag into the hot water. Stress and exhaustion are still as much a part of her life now as they were back then.   
  
It wasn't fair.  
  
She pulls out her phone to scroll through her social media feeds when she sees the message notification pop up.  
  
**> > Claude: **u still up?  
  
Byleth clicks with a speed she knows she doesn’t always grace Lysithea with, watching how the three dancing dots indicate he’s still typing.  
  
**> > Claude: **if u are, go to bed >:(  
**> > Claude: **oh, i see ur online !!  
**> > Claude: **go to bed!! >:(  
  
Byleth feels a grin forming as she types out her response.  
  
**< < me: **Can I help you with anything, Claude? Also you’re still awake too, aren’t you? If you berate me for not sleeping yet, you’re being slightly hypocritical.  
  
She watches the dots dance, then disappear just to appear again.  
  
**> > Claude: **u got me there, ngl  
**> > Claude: **but!! u forget that i dont have to work tmr u do !!!  
**> > Claude: **i would like it tho if we could talk for a bit  
**> > Claude: **i mean if ur up for it!!  
  
**< < me: **Sure, what do you need?  
  
**> > Claude: **do u think it’s irresponsible to change the salt and sugar pots at work? so i can watch my coworker gag?  
  
**< < me: **That’s what you needed my help with?  
  
Byleth watches with faint amusement as the dots start dancing. They stop just as quickly and then they start up again. She decides to tease him.  
  
**< < me: **Cat caught your tongue?  
  
Byleth laughs as Claude sends her a shocked hawk sticker.  
  
**> > Claude**: thats mean! :o  
**> > Claude: **i was trying to make u laugh!!  
  
**< < me:** Oh, I did laugh. Your shocked hawk sticker was quite amusing. I’d like to imagine you made the same face.  
  
**> > Claude: **i might have  
  
Byleth smiles to herself as she watches the dots dance. Conversations with Claude never felt dull.  
  
**> > Claude**: okay fair, u got me.  
**> > Claude: **i didnt want ur adivce on my latest scheme  
**> > Claude**: i was listening to a song and i thought, ukno who would love this? byleth! so i wanted to rec u the full ost  
**> > Claude: **why are u still up?  
  
Byleth’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He thought of me _,_ she thinks, slightly bewildered. Was he not embarrassed by saying something like that? Byleth shakes her head, focusing on the question he asked her.  
  
**< < me: **Work. My students have been doing very well, so my supervisor asked me to come up with more work for them. So they stay motivated.  
  
**> > Claude: ** ohh, someone is a very good teacher! i should start calling you Teach! :D  
  
**< < me:** It does have a nice ring to it, I will admit.  
  
**> > Claude: ** Teach it is! :D  
  
**< < me:** Sure, Claude.  
**< < me:** Oh, I hadn’t responded to your song recommendations. That’s very thoughtful of you Claude, thank you.  
  
**> > Claude: ** omggg no prob !!! least i can do for my Teach! ;)  
  
Byleth hovers over her keyboard, her tea forgotten on the kitchen counter. She wiggles her toes against the floor, her tongue making clicking noises as she thinks about her response. Would it be too bold? She has the words typed out but something prevents her from hitting send.  
  
**> > Claude:** Teach?  
  
She frowns, something about the nickname feels familiar, too. Something about it reminds her of a past she’s forgotten. But that’s not the pressing issue here, can she ask him this so casually?  
  
**< < me:** I would like to know though, why did you think of me?  
  
Byleth releases a breath she didn’t realise she was holding when Claude replypops up. He responds so quickly, Byleth guesses he had been waiting for the question.  
  
**> > Claude:** the melodies sound a bit sad, but with hope. something abt that reminds me of u  
**> > Claude:** like ur always trying to do ur best even when ur tired and when u actually dont wanna but u still love what u do  
**> > Claude:** like now!!  
**> > Claude:** ur tired but ur still thinking of ur students  
**> > Claude:** its kinda like that  
  
Byleth squints at the words and the speed with which they appear on her screen. How did he type that all so fast?  
  
**> > Claude:** did i make u feel awkward?  
  
Byleth realises that speed typing either comes with feeling flustered or having lots to say. Her thumbs race across the screen, her response not nearly as eloquent as she would like.  
  
**< < me:** No! I’m not awkward at all!  
**< < me:** It’s a nice thought!  
**< < me:** I just was just bewildered!  
  
**> > Claude:** heh ;)  
**> > Claude:** got u to multi text  
  
Byleth laughs out loud when he sends her a sticker of a dancing hawk, followed by a raccoon giving her a thumbs up. She scrolls through her tab of stickers, picking one of a penguin smiling. She likes penguins, they’re cute.  
  
Claude doesn’t respond after this, and Byleth assumes their conversation is over. She locks her screen and rummages around her cupboard for some snacks.  
  
Byleth takes her time walking back to her bedroom; she chases her cats down, making sure they’re all pet and cuddled before resigning herself to another night of minimal sleep.  
  
She knows she’ll have to answer to Seteth come morning, his disappointed gaze following her form as she sluggishly moves to her classroom. She had been avoiding him and his “gentle” inquisitions to her health for a day too long now. Byleth can hear his gruff voice, “Professor, are you doing alright?” with those eyes that dare her to lie. She groans, wondering how long it’ll take before she’ll need to come in for an evaluation. What she had heard from Manuela, Seteth was even more terrifying in those conversations. Something about “seeing him care about you is more terrifying than when he’s angry at you”. Byleth had long ago decided she wasn’t really planning on finding out just how terrifying he’d be.  
  
Guess there’s a first time for everything, she thinks defeatedly as she opens up her laptop again and starts typing away. But as she works her way through her preparations with Claude’s recommended soundtrack in the background, she doesn’t feel as lonely as she normally does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big shout out to krmochis for proofreading and beta-ing!! Thank you for your endless amounts of support ♥ 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful morning, day, evening or night!! See you all in two weeks again! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth commences part 3 in her Master Plan and then has to go in for an evaluation with her supervisor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello! A bit of an early update since my weekend is going to be crazy hectic and I was worried I would otherwise miss my designated update window. I also wanted to thank you guys for the kudos and comments since the last chapter! They mean a lot to me and they make me insanely happy! Enjoy the chapter!

“Cyril, how’s grading last week’s tests coming along?”   
  
Byleth pops her head through the door to her office, where Cyril, her intern, is scribbling away with a red pen. Cyril had started as her intern roughly three months ago and Byleth was very impressed with his accomplishments thus far. Cyril works like he doesn’t know the definition of the word ‘rest’ and it reminds her of a certain white-haired sweets lover.   
  
“It’s been going pretty well,” Cyril replies, lifting his head to give her a curt nod. “I should be finished by the end of the day.”   
  
“Ah, that’s great.” Byleth claps her hands together as if she just remembered something and not about to commence step 3 in her Master Plan. “Lysithea is coming by later today to prepare for tomorrow’s extra class. Would you mind meeting with her to discuss the results of the tests in my stead? I have an evaluation with Seteth today.”  
  
Byleth watches with well-hidden glee at how Cyril’s cheeks turn slightly pink at the name of her best friend. It was no secret to anyone at the faculty that Cyril had a crush on Lysithea, except for anyone but Cyril. And Lysithea. In contrast, it was Lysithea’s most guarded secret that she had a crush on Cyril. Luckily for her, she was only at the faculty once or twice a week, where she would tutor students behind with their classwork. It was a known fact that you signed up for Dr. Ordelia’s tutor hours if you wanted good grades, in fact, Cyril had once been part of her tutor group.   
  
Byleth felt like she was stuck in a love drama and she enjoyed every second of it. She couldn’t help but mingle in their affairs, despite the way Lysithea would screech at her if she indulged her about “Today’s Adventures with Cyril”. It had taken Lysithea quite some time to properly establish she had a crush on Cyril. Byleth still remembers the days Lysithea would turn as red as a tomato at the mere mention of the boy, and still managed to write it off as nothing.  
  
“We’re just friends!” was her compelling argument, but it was only in a bout of jealousy when Cyril received Valentine’s Day chocolate from someone other than her, she had to admit Byleth may have had a point. Byleth still has a screenshot of Lysithea’s text - it’s not often she gets to be right when it concerns Lysithea.   
  
“Will she be here long?” Cyril asks, putting the pen down. Byleth hides a smirk, knowing Lysithea is one of the few topics that warrants her Cyril’s undivided attention. “I need to return one of the books I borrowed from her.”  
  
“Was it an interesting read?” Byleth asks, closing the door behind her to sit down with Cyril. She grabs a stack of papers Cyril has finished and picks up her own red pen. They had come to an agreement that while she knows Cyril is more than capable of doing this work by himself, she would still check his work for appearance’s sake. So far it has proven enough to keep Seteth off her back and avoid a scolding from the headmaster, Rhea.   
  
“Very!” Cyril’s voice has a childlike quality to it that Byleth doesn’t get to hear often. She laments that loss for a short second, too worried she’ll miss out on his expressions. Cyril has a soft smile on his face, so very in contrast with the frown he normally has etched into his features. “Lysithea always recommends me very good books. She knows I still struggle with some of the words so she offered I can text her when I get stuck.”  
  
Cyril had moved to Fódhlan at a relatively young age and while he grew up in the local orphanage supported by Rhea, he had never learned to read. Byleth’s blood still boils when she thinks about it, wondering just how that orphanage is being operated and why such essential teachings are missing.   
  
Cyril hadn’t seemed to mind too much until it was time for him to enrol school. Suddenly overwhelmed with demands that he previously had managed to slip under, Lysithea had seen him struggle and offered her help. Cyril had been enrolled in her tutor group first, something Lysithea had started up especially for children like him, for those who had not been fortunate enough to enjoy the basics of education. Even now as Lysithea was juggling being a Research Assistant, writing up the results of her own research in hopes of getting published and getting her PhD, she still made time to teach her tutor group.  
  
Byleth felt faint just thinking about it. She felt nothing but respect for Lysithea but worried about her all the same.  
  
It was during those tutor groups Lysithea first noticed Cyril and it was years later when Cyril returned as an intern that she truly _noticed_ him. Puppy love turned into a deafening crush and Byleth enjoyed every second of it.   
  
Not that she would ever admit it to either one of the protagonists in her favourite romantic comedy.   
  
“Did you take her up on her offer?” Byleth asks, circling one of the answers Cyril had corrected. As Cyril nods, shy blush on his cheeks, she adds, “Also, I would give this student half points for this answer. While you are correct, they did not go in detail about the precursors of the building of Fódhlan’s Throat, they did mention that ignorance breeds fear which is one of the things they could have gathered from the source.”  
  
Cyril hums, writing Byleth’s advice down on a sticky note. “But that wasn’t the key objective of your question.”  
  
“That is true, but I think teaching students to think for themselves using on the resources available to them is more beneficial for them in the long run than them just learning facts from a book.” Byleth leans back in her chair, crossing her legs as she watches Cyril write down what she’s saying. Once he looks up to her and gives her a quick nod, she continues. “That is what makes history so fascinating, everyone has their own interpretation and way of looking at it. While yes, the course manual - and by extension Seteth - would’ve liked them to pick up on the fact that Almyra posed a threat to the Alliance and Fódhlan as a whole thus prompting the construction of Fódhlan’s Throat, realising that it’s actually ignorance and fear of the unknown is what led to the creation of Fódhlan’s Throat is just as intelligent.”  
  
Cyril taps his pen against his chin, clearly thinking. Byleth quickly glances at her watch, counting down until her meeting with Seteth. She does want Cyril to speak his mind so she holds her tongue, waiting to see what he’ll surprise her with this time.  
  
“Does ignorance really breed fear? Or is it more like fear breeds ignorance?” Cyril drops his pen on the desk, his hands moving to support his thought process. “I think that by not understanding someone, you essentially judge them. Like how people do not trust me because of my Almyran heritage.” His voice does not carry a sense of irritation but rather objectivity. It pains Byleth to think Cyril has gotten used to being distrusted simply for the colour of his skin. That being given the side-eye is part of his “normal”.   
  
“Go on,” she encourages him, forcing the thoughts to the back of her mind. She enjoys the times Cyril speaks his mind and wants to give him her undivided attention. Lysithea’s words echo in her mind _“He has a lot of very deep and meaningful things to say if you give him the chance to”.  
  
_Cyril takes his chance and continues. “Misunderstandings breed fear which further breeds ignorance. I suppose in a way it’s all a circle? Like, if I don’t understand you, I will base my beliefs around wrong information which fuels my lack of understanding?”  
  
Byleth nods, “That’s how I see it at least. I think all things are connected to each other one way or another. Just like people distrust you for your heritage, people undermine my capabilities because I am a woman, and they overestimate the physical strength of men simply because they are men. Ignorance can be found in all corners of the social world and in every chapter of history.”  
  
Cyril looks pensive and Byleth allows him a moment to himself. “I should get going, I have a meeting with Seteth and you have a meeting with Lysithea.” Cyril visibly perks up by the mention of her name and it melts Byleth’s heart. “Now, continue with the reports and if you can’t finish it up, you can leave it on my desk and I’ll continue where you left off.”  
  
“There will be no need,” Cyril says, voice filled with determination, “I got this.”  
  
Byleth leans over, ruffling his hair and fondly ignoring his undignified yelp which reminds her so much of Lysithea. “That you do.”

***

Byleth takes a deep breath as she paces in front of Seteth’s door. There was something unnerving about him. Something about him that felt like she was always being scrutinised. Not that he had given her any reason to be distrusting of him and his intentions. If anything, Seteth had always expressed belief in her capabilities in his own, albeit peculiar, ways. Even if he considered her too young for the amount of responsibility she had received. But Rhea had willed it so and Rhea’s word was law in this building. Not even Seteth would dream of going against her wishes.   
  
It is a hierarchy that sent shivers down Byleth’s spine. She could almost hear her father’s voice,  _ “Be wary of those in power that seem to be looking down upon you instead of at you” _ . The times Byleth had met Rhea -which surprisingly wasn’t often, as Rhea sent Seteth to deliver her messages most of the time- she felt an unease she couldn’t explain. Her father would’ve told her to trust her gut instinct. Byleth had never doubted her father’s words and she wasn’t about to start now.   
  
However, the thought of Rhea is pushed to the back of Byleth’s mind as she reads over the golden plaque on the door again.   
  
_ Seteth’s Office.  
  
_ Who knew two words could cause so much internal turmoil and unbridled fear. Byleth tries to not let it get to her, shakes the tension out of her shoulders, rolls her neck for good measure. She checks her watch to make sure she’s a few minutes early and knocks on the door before she can waste any more time dilly-dallying around.   
  
“Come in,” comes the curt reply from the other side of the door and Byleth enters immediately, hoping to leave her fear and nerves outside the door.  
  
As she enters she’s not surprised to find that Seteth’s office is organised. It’s clean, she thinks as she closes the door behind her. It has two comfy chairs, for student consultations she assumes, a sleek desk with equally sleek chairs. They look to be of greater quality than the furniture in her room, she thinks slightly disappointed and bitter.   
  
“You had wanted to talk to me?” Byleth speaks first, and Seteth nods, his eyes not leaving his computer screen.   
  
“That is correct, please take a seat.” He motions to the comfy chairs with one hand, the other still typing away. He looks focused and annoyed, nothing out of the ordinary there.  
  
Byleth takes him up on his offer, allowing herself to sink into the soft cushioning of the chair. She sits up before Seteth turns around and can call her out on it, crossing her legs like she has seen Manuela do when she wants to appear confident. It boosts her confidence for exactly 2 seconds because then Seteth turns to face her and she can feel her heart rate increase.  
  
Seteth takes off his glasses, putting them neatly on his desk. He picks up a pen and a notebook, before sitting across of Byleth in the comfy chair. He doesn’t smile at her, but nods in her general direction.   
  
“Thank you for coming by today,” he says, opening the notebook on his lap. He, too, crosses his legs, making sure he has an even surface to write on. Byleth wonders what he’s going to write about her, the set-up making her feel as nervous as she did when she first applied for a teaching position. “I had wanted to discuss how you’re currently doing. You’ve been employed for nearly a year now and I figured it was time to do a proper evaluation meeting.”  
  
Byleth nods her head, folding her hands into her lap. “Time does fly, I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”   
  
Seteth makes an agreeing noise. “I agree. Moving on, while you displayed a certain amount of guts to apply for a position at an academy as prestigious as our own with your level of,” he pauses, making sure to look Byleth straight into her eyes. Byleth maintains eye contact, her posture slightly tense but she makes the conscious effort to appear a bit more composed than she feels. Seteth’s lips quirk up slightly as if he’s caught onto her act. “As I was saying, with your level of inexperience, I will admit the results you’ve shown have definitely worked in your favour.”   
  
Byleth nods her head rather stiffly. “That makes me happy to hear.”   
  
“However, the level of knowledge retained by your students does not always match the curriculum standards as I’ve designed them.” Seteth brings up his notebook and reads, “Students have been found discussing different philosophies and been arguing for their own derived answers, especially surrounding the courses History and Literature, which are the two courses you’ve been teaching.”  
  
“I believe in allowing my students to learn how to think for themselves, not mindlessly reproduce the material we teach them,” Byleth defends herself. She takes a more active attitude, sitting up straight.   
  
“Easy, Byleth.” Seteth raises a hand in her general direction, his features softening ever so slightly. “It was not meant as an insult nor as an attack. It is an observation; the students you’ve been teaching have been developing more critical thinking skills than the students who have not been under your wing.”  
  
“Oh.” Byleth allows the tiny sound to escape past her lips, smiling sheepishly. Stupid nerves, she thinks, as Seteth writes something down. Making her assume the worst.  
  
“You may also interpret it as a compliment,” Seteth continues, his pen still moving across the page, “Critical thinking is something I value as an educator and it appears you do too.”  
  
“Then allow me to express my gratitude.” Byleth feels a wave of pride come over her as she realises she managed to procure a compliment from  _ Seteth _ of all people. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Seteth’s face retains its soft features for a short moment; Byleth worries she would have missed it had she blinked. His face hardens almost immediately, brows furrowing. “Now, I have no complaints about your teaching nor your methods. I do worry about you as a person.” He closes the notebook and Byleth almost immediately realises what Manuella’s warning had meant. “If there is ever anything bothering you, you can discuss it with me at your own liberty.”  
  
Byleth feels something get stuck in her throat. This is a new sensation. She hadn’t realised in her pursuit of recognition for her work, but she forgot one essential thing. She had forgotten just how  _ nice  _ it feels to be acknowledged not only as Professor Eisner but also as Byleth, the person who worked so hard to get here. Who is still struggling to create a place where she belongs.  
  
“Firstly, thank you for your concern.” Byleth coughs into her fist, cleverly hiding the emotion that’s trying to show on her face. She doesn’t want to crack, not in front of Seteth. “I am however doing fine. I have been quite busy trying to implement your suggestion to challenge my students more, which admittedly has been more work than I had envisioned.”   
  
That is quite the understatement, she thinks to herself as she watches Seteth write it down. “Would you require my assistance? It was my idea after all.” Seteth looks at her with a slight tilt of his head. “I would not mind assisting you in drafting up some lesson plans so you can add your own personal touch to it. It would also be a very fruitful task for Cyril, I am certain he wouldn’t mind assisting either.”   
  
Byleth ponders the options laid out for her. “I can definitely see Cyril benefitting from that,” she says, choosing her words carefully, “But he is already doing that for Manuella as well. I do not want to overwork him.”   
  
Byleth worries about Cyril, something Seteth seems to appreciate. He nods a few times, running a hand through his hair quickly. He seems to be thinking of a solution and while Byleth appreciates the concern, it makes her slightly uncomfortable.  
  
“I do think I am quite able to handle the workload thus far and do not foresee any trouble in the near future.” She hears herself say, confidence slipping from between her words. She sits up straight like Jeralt taught her and gives Seteth a polite smile. “In the event I find myself unable to perform to the best of my capabilities, I will be certain to let you know.”  
  
Seteth nods slowly, “That sounds like a reasonable compromise. I do want your word that you will come to me, or any other faculty member if that makes you feel more at ease, and tell us when you’re running into trouble. It’s hard to read you so we are dependent on whether you share your worries with us.”  
  
Byleth’s breath gets stuck in her throat as the words “ _ hard to read” _ keep echoing in her head. She tries to conjure a polite smile at least but her body refuses her. She knows she’s blanked out, her expression flat and seemingly uncaring.   
  
It’s hard being vulnerable, it’s hard showing the depth of her soul. She never had to, not with Jeralt so in tune with her feelings and behaviour. She hardly ever needed to express her own concerns because Jeralt would’ve known. He would’ve handed her a blanket before she could even register the cold. Guide her to bed before she realised she was tired and ruffled her hair before she could feel tears form in her eyes.   
  
Perhaps having had a father as attentive as Jeralt had ruined her and her emotional growth.  
  
Byleth doesn’t ponder the dilemma in her mind as she decides she first needs to get away from Seteth. Trying to battle mirages from her past was not easy. Having Seteth regard her with an emotionally constipated look did not make things any easier. She knows he means to express concern, but with how his eyebrows are furrowed together and his mouth pulled into a tight smile, he really wasn’t doing a good job.   
  
“Would that be all?” she asks, preparing to push herself out of the chair that has gone hard underneath her. So much for fancy soft chairs.  
  
Seteth graces her with a curt nod. "Take care of yourself, Byleth."  
  
Byleth knows it looks like she ran away and in a way she did, but she doesn't care. She checks her watch, realising her workday is almost over. A sigh of relief escapes her lips, only just now becoming aware of how badly her hands are shaking. She glances around, before ducking into the closest bathroom.   
  
Byleth does not want to think about Lysithea finding her, especially not in this state. She would’ve pieced the story together, crossed her arms across her chest and called her out. Byleth shivers; that’s a prospect equally as scary as her meeting with Seteth.  
  
Once she’s properly calmed down, Byleth exits the bathroom stalls and makes her way to the teachers’ facilities. She’ll have to see how far Cyril got with the tests, pick up the lesson plans for next week and --  
  
A mess of brown hair stops her in her tracks. Byleth freezes up, blinking as she does a double-take.   
  
_ What was Claude doing here?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you guys in two weeks! I hope I did Cyril and Seteth justice. I also feel like Byleth is the type of teacher that would give you half points if you tried to smart ass your way through an exam. I love teachers like Byleth :')
> 
> As always, biggest shout out and thank you to krmochis, the bestest beta in the world. You guys have no idea how many grammar mistakes they fish out. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, have nice day! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth meets Claude at Garreg Mach and the Claude's Deer Squad is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, new update! Thanks for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter, it means the world to me!  
> Also everyone say thank you krmochis, for being the best beta a girl could ask for. I swear the amount of gibberish they prevent from going out in the world is amazing. So thanks!!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it! :)

There was no reason Claude should be here at Garreg Mach. No reason at all.  
  
And yet there he was.   
  
Here.  
  
At Garreg Mach.  
  
Byleth watches with faint interest as he looks around, acting far more suspicious than he should be if he had a reason to be here. She’s starting to think he really doesn’t have a reason to be here.  
  
“If you’re planning on sneaking your way in, I wouldn’t recommend the front door.”   
  
Byleth relishes in the surprised yelp Claude makes as he jumps up in shock. His head whips over in her direction, his earring dangling as his mouth forms an ‘o’.   
  
No noise leaves his mouth as he tries to compose himself, not hiding the way he looks Byleth up and down in the process. She would feel self-conscious if it were anyone but him. Lysithea having picked out her work outfits may also be a contributing factor in her sudden burst of confidence as Claude seems to appreciate her look.   
  
Byleth feels her lips curl up in a smile at his slight blush. She smooths down her skirt, crossing her arms over her chest. “What brings you here, Claude?”  
  
Claude shrugs, “Oh you know. The usual.”  
  
Byleth raises an eyebrow and Claude sighs dramatically. “I’m here to follow up on something. Visit an old acquaintance. Meeting you here is just a happy coincidence. I swear I did not stalk your online presence when I found out you were a teacher.”  
  
Byleth feels flattered by the sentiment their chance meeting is a “happy coincidence”, but can’t help feel like Claude is hiding something from her. She decides to forego his -albeit smooth- attempt at misdirecting her attention and cuts straight to the chase. “What acquaintance? I’ve never seen you here before.”   
  
She walks closer, hoping to get a better read on his face this way. Claude folds his fingers together behind his head and sways slightly as he hums. He pointedly looks the other way, ignoring Byleth, who is taken aback by his attitude.   
  
“You’re not going to answer me?” Byleth asks, and she hates how pouty it makes her sound. Lysithea would laugh if she saw her, accusing her of acting like a middle school student with a crush. Byleth is starting to feel like she might be right.  
  
She _is_ acting out of character. But when she sends Claude another look which he ignores, she can’t help herself from feeling disappointed.   
  
Claude, with his almighty power of always knowing what she’s feeling, taps her on the shoulder. He grins before making a zipping motion across his lips and Byleth yields. She lets out a deep sigh, taking a few steps back. “Alright, alright. Keep your secrets, I’ll leave you to it.”  
  
Byleth shoots him a quick smile and moves to walk past him. She feels her emotions going out of control and she blames Claude. He’s acting like a child hiding a secret and it gives her a headache. The pose, the grin - it all feels familiar. Like she’s supposed to know him from a past she’s largely forgotten.  
  
It makes her want to run away.  
  
That’s her intention until Claude takes hold of her arm. His fingers feel warm against the fabric of her shirt and Byleth briefly wonders how warm his fingers would feel against her skin. Holding hands with Claude would probably feel like holding a furnace, she thinks.  
  
She _really_ was turning into a middle school student with a crush.  
  
Byleth feels heat spread across her cheeks and when she makes eye contact with Claude, she knows she’s probably sporting a pretty bad blush. “What is it?” she asks, her voice shaky. She inwardly curses her nerves and the impending realisation she might develop a crush on this guy if he doesn’t stop looking at her like _that_.  
  
Claude smiles mischievously, shooting her a wink. “You’re here, I’m here. I have some time to play around. Wanna get probably really bad teachers’ coffee?”  
  
Byleth is shocked she allows herself to consider the option. By the way Claude raises his eyebrow, he realises she did too. So she coughs, and replies a bit more heatedly than intended, “I can’t sneak you into the teachers’ facilities Claude, I could lose my job!”  
  
Claude lets go of her arm -Byleth instantly misses the warmth- and rolls his head back with laughter. “You did consider it! But fine, fine.” He lifts his hands up as he shakes his head solemnly. “We’ll just have to schedule another date sometime else. Wanna go out for coffee this Sunday again? I finally managed to get some free time!”  
  
Byleth smiles, “Now that is a proposition I won’t say no to.” She watches Claude’s features form a smile, only now realising she’d been looking at a fake one the entire time.   
  
There it was again, she thinks, as Claude’s eyes twinkle with genuine joy. That sense that he’s hiding something. But there is a sense of nostalgia woven into it, like she’s been in this position before. That she had wondered about these exact same things once before.  
  
It gives her a headache.  
  
As Byleth tries to solve the mystery surrounding Claude and his fake smiles, Claude takes out his phone. The sound of a camera snaps Byleth out of her mind and she blinks up at Claude.  
  
“Sorry, you looked too cute to resist.” Claude doesn’t look up from his phone and Byleth has to do everything in her power not to snatch his phone right out of his hands. She desperately wants to delete whatever expression she has in that picture because it probably isn’t pretty. Jeralt always said her thinking face wasn’t the prettiest face.   
  
“No phones in class,” she ends up saying, faint irritation in her voice. She cringes slightly at how teacher-like it makes her sound and quickly checks Claude’s expression to see if he shares her opinion.  
  
Seemingly impressed by her authority, Claude complies to her surprise. “Wouldn’t wanna anger my favourite Teach, would I?” He grins again, locking his hands behind his head and Byleth feels that same uncanny feeling in her stomach.   
  
_Fake.  
  
_“Claude, have we met before?” Byleth asks, hoping to get some kind of closure on the tornado of thoughts in her head. “Beyond that one coffee date, don’t try and trick me.”  
  
Byleth had expected Claude to make a joke, play her off and try to misdirect her. When he pulls his lips in a fine line, she feels a shiver run down her spine. The joy that had been radiating off him disappears within seconds and she feels like she’s made the biggest mistake of her life.   
  
Claude scratches his neck awkwardly, looking around. Byleth has never seen him look in that much anguish.  
  
“I don’t have all my memories from when I was younger,” Byleth hurriedly adds. “I miss a big part of my childhood, so if we are old acquaintances, I might have forgotten you.”  
  
Claude’s expression tides over and he shakes his head. “Oh, I see. That must’ve been a lot of trouble.”  
  
Byleth shrugs. “Not really, my father always supplied the information that was lost to me. I remember we lived in a secluded area, so it’s not like I miss too many memories about people. If there was someone I was supposed to know, my father helped me out.”  
  
“That’s nice.” Claude’s eyes are clouded over slightly and he nods. “I’m glad you had someone you could rely on! Your father sounds like a great guy!”  
  
Before Byleth can agree with him, he takes her hand. She splutters out sounds she knows are not words and Claude gives her an extra-wide grin before pressing his lips against her knuckles. “I need to get going but I’ll text you the address of the coffee shop I wanna take you to! Talk to you later, Teach!”  
  
He shoots off before Byleth can say anything so she sends him a half-hearted wave instead. It’s only when she enters her office and sees the pile of corrected tests with Cyril’s messily written _Got it all done_ on a sticky note on top, she realises Claude never answered her question.

***

Claude kicks off his shoes by the door, cursing loudly when one of them bounces off the wall and hits him against his shins.  
  
“Maybe if you didn’t kick those shoes off like an animal but took them off more gently, you wouldn’t be in pain,” comes the annoyed response from the living room.  
  
“Shut your trap, Lorenz,” is Claude’s reply and he knows it’s half-hearted when Lorenz raises an eyebrow when he sees him.  
  
“What happened to you?” he asks, his typical annoyance whenever he sees Claude replaced with the beginnings of worry and concern. The look makes Claude feel like pranking him.   
  
Instead of initiating one of his multiple schemes on his far too easily pranked roommate, Claude shrugs. He drops himself face down onto the couch, his legs dangling off the side. “Where’s mah fwin?” he mumbles with his face planted into the cushions.  
  
“Beg pardon?” Lorenz says, his gaze returning to his laptop, interest lost.   
  
“I said, where’s my twin?” Claude turns his head so he can watch Lorenz do whatever on that laptop of his. Claude frankly didn’t care at this point. Lorenz was always doing something, always busy. Claude wonders what idiot decides to get a PhD in Political Science before remembering he is one too. He was the bigger idiot since he decided to get a degree in Law while he was at it also.  
  
How did he survive college? What was he thinking?   
  
“She’s escorting Marianne home.” Lorenz doesn’t stop typing but Claude can feel the slight strain in his voice. “I figure she’ll be home soon.”  
  
“Still hung up on Marianne?” Claude asks. He may not always be kind to Lorenz but when your roommate starts dating your crush, life’s rough. Like Claude’s life is rough. Like seeing Byleth and talking to her but her having no clue who he is.   
  
Lorenz sends him an annoyed glare. Claude raises a hand in defeat and goes back to lamenting his life with Lorenz’s typing as his soundtrack. He would just spend the rest of his life here on this couch, waiting for Hilda to come back home, so they can watch bad movies and take his mind off of this. Or prank Lorenz together.   
  
Either would work at this point.   
  
Claude balls his hands into fists, his emotions flaring up under his skin. His mind travels back to Byleth, and he feels like screaming. Of course she had forgotten him. Claude feels a bitter taste come up as he remembers how sorry she had looked when she said it too. Her entire body had gone stiff, her green eyes clouding over with regret. She might have said her father took care of things, and from Claude’s memory he knows he would have, but that doesn’t take away how lost she must feel with no memories to call her own.   
  
“Was it that woman? The one from your past?” Lorenz’s voice is airy and light as if he isn’t asking Claude to open up his soul and offer him his pain on a silver platter.   
  
Claude sends him an annoyed glare. Lorenz raises a hand in defeat and goes back to typing on his laptop with Claude’s grumbling as _his_ soundtrack. For someone who acts like he doesn’t care, Lorenz is quite a sensitive guy. Not that Claude would ever admit that out loud.  
  
They enjoy each other’s company like this in silence until Claude hears the front door open. The high pitched wail, followed by curses make Claude smile against the cushions.  
  
“Claude, I swear to the goddess, one of these days I’m gonna trip over your shoes and you’re gonna cry because you’ll have killed your twin! Also hi, Lorenz!”   
  
Claude sits up immediately, head whipped to the hallway where Hilda sends him a glare. “Hilda!” he cheers, waving excitedly. She waves back, taking off her coat and scarf that he knows does not belong to her. Hilda didn’t own any blue clothes.   
  
“What’s up, Claude?” she asks, crossing the distance to the couch. She ruffles his hair gently, and Claude almost immediately closes his eyes, enjoying the familiarity. “You look sad.”  
  
“He is sad,” Lorenz comments from his position on the couch. He briefly looks up to give Hilda a nod as a way of greeting her and returns his attention to his laptop. “Claude met up with that mystery woman again today.”  
  
“The one who you are super hardcore crushing on after only one date?” Hilda asks, her eyes lighting up. “The one who you’re always texting but you refuse to give me a name?”  
  
Claude groans and Hilda has all her answers. She sits down on the couch, folding her legs underneath her as she looks at Claude expectantly. “Spill the tea.”  
  
Claude groans again for emphasis and Hilda blankly stares at him. Her lips curl up into a smile, which sends shivers down his spine. “Did I stutter, Claude? I said, spill. The. Tea.”   
  
Lorenz sighs as he gets up from the couch. “I’ll make some actual tea and then Claude can spill it all.”  
  
Hilda beams up at Lorenz, “Thanks! That would be great! It’s still pretty cold outside too. Mari gave me her scarf because it’s so cold.”  
  
Claude notices the way Lorenz stiffens slightly but Hilda is so lost in her admiration for Marianne, she doesn’t notice. Instead of making her aware of Lorenz’s feelings, Claude says, “Yeah rub it in. You have the sweetest girlfriend in the world and I’m pining.”  
  
“Maybe if you confessed or did _something_ , you wouldn’t be pining but be living the blissful taken life.” Hilda gets up from the couch to get some snacks and Claude takes out his phone to pass the time while Lorenz prepares the tea.   
  
Claude opens his images, looking at the picture he managed to snap of Byleth. His heartbeat picks up again as he watches the way her eyes are squinted together as she seems lost in thought. Her cheeks are slightly puffed up, and Claude wonders what other expressions she makes. She had rested her head on her hand and Claude racks his brain trying to figure out if that’s a new habit she picked up in all those years he hadn’t seen her.   
  
He remembers when they were younger and she would laugh and it felt like the world stopped. Her eyes would light up, brighter than the starry skies they would watch together. Her eyes were still blue back then and Claude wants to know why she started wearing coloured lenses. Why she dyed her hair. Why she stopped laughing. Her laugh was the first thing he started missing when she disappeared and now he had to miss it again.  
  
It wasn’t _fair_.  
  
“Earth to Claude?” Hilda’s voice suddenly rings through his mind loud and clear.   
  
“Oh yeah?” He locks his phone, avoiding Hilda’s prying eyes and intrusive gaze. He knew she would tease him to no end if she found out he had resorted to snapping candid pictures of Byleth.   
  
Like he’s some middle schooler with a crush.  
  
“Lorenz has prepared the tea.” She repeats herself calmly, and Claude feels uneasy. There’s a strange gleam in her eyes, like she’s unsure about something. Like she’s upset about something.  
  
“Are you okay, Hilda?” Claude asks, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder as Lorenz pours out the tea. “You look upset.”  
  
Hilda sends him a small smile and Claude instantly recognises it’s fake. It’s one of those “please don’t worry about me” smiles. The smile she’ll send people if she’s worried she’s not living up to expectations, that she’s disappointing people.   
  
“You could never disappoint me.” Claude takes out his phone, hesitating briefly. He wants to show her a picture of Byleth, he really does. But there’s something intimate about the picture he took. He also thinks Byleth would kill him if she ever found out he shared candid pictures. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, you know this.”  
  
“If anything, he trusts you most out of all of us.” Lorenz puts down two cups of fragrant tea in front of them and offers them his version of a kind smile. Claude makes a mental note to stop teasing Lorenz so much; he was valid sometimes, with these fleeting moments of kindness.   
  
Hilda physically perks up after that. “Ah, I know, I know. You’re just being so mysterious.” She raises an accusatory finger at Claude. “I just wanna see the lady you’re so hung up on. These eyes gotta judge if she’s worthy of your time.”  
  
Lorenz laughs at that and tries to hide it by coughing into his fist. He shakes his head when both Hilda and Claude look at him with tilted heads. “Pardon me.”  
  
Hilda bursts into small giggles at Lorenz’s flushed cheeks and Claude laughs because it’s such a strange setting. He feels himself growing lighter and he smiles, even more grateful he decided to become roommates with his best friends. Hilda topples over when her giggles turn into laughter and Lorenz allows himself a proper laugh and Claude watches them.   
  
He is _really_ grateful he decided to room with his best friends.   
  
“Okay guys,” he says when everyone has calmed down. He picks up his cup of tea, blowing into the steam. It moves at his will like he’s some sort of magician and he has to stifle a laugh. Hilda and Lorenz look at him expectantly and Claude nods to himself. “Here’s the tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: okay so by the end of this chapter XXX happens  
> also me: okay but what if i add this scene and this scene and this scene and this scene
> 
> What I'm trying to say is, this fic has a will of its own and I am but a lowly writer trying to do what it wants.  
> Life (and a writer's block) is kicking my butt lately so I apologise if the next update is a bit later than usual... I will do my best to get it out on time though! 
> 
> Anyway!! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this update! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Claude go on their second coffee date

Byleth glances at her phone impatiently as she waits outside the train station. She’s wearing one of her warmer coats with a scarf tied around her neck but she’s still cold. It’s still five minutes until the time they decided to meet up and Byleth wonders if she’ll still feel her legs by the time Claude shows up. The feeling in her toes abandoned her about two minutes into waiting in the freezing cold and she really regrets not wearing two pairs of socks.  
  
Winter had progressed quickly and she can’t believe she was wearing crop tops just a few weeks ago. Byleth’s body usually didn’t register the cold much. She could get away with wearing t-shirts longer than most people could. It was something Lysithea, who was perpetually cold, had always envied her for.   
  
Byleth pulls her scarf up higher, covering most of her face so just her eyes peek out into the world. It’s fairly empty for a Sunday, she thinks to herself as she watches the slow stream of people move in and out of the station. There is the slightly irregular rhythm of cards being swiped and Byleth likes it. Likes how alive the world feels. She shivers involuntarily as the wind picks up, playing with locks of her hair and she blows her bangs out of her eyes she hears bright bubbling laughter. It’s followed by the shutter sound of a camera and she feels her features form a frown before she can blink.  
  
Claude smiles at her brightly from behind his own set of winter gear. He’s bundled up in a scarf and a beanie, his cheeks and nose a rosy pink. His green eyes are sparkling and Byleth pointedly ignores the way her heart beats just a bit faster in her chest. Instead, she focuses on the phone in his gloved hands and points.   
  
“Better delete that,” she mumbles, digging her ungloved hands deeper in the pockets of her coat. She can’t feel the tips of her fingers and she’s cursing herself for not being adequately prepared for the cold. “I probably look like a fool.”  
  
Claude’s smile turns into a smirk as he shakes his head. “I don’t think so, you looked super cute.” He pockets his phone quickly, not ready to leave it to chance to see if Byleth would snatch it away.   
  
She doesn’t but rolls her eyes at him in jest. She elbows him softly and can feel Claude’s laughter bubble up from his chest where she jabbed him. It’s a nice feeling, she thinks as Claude folds his hands behind his head. His warm gloved hands, she thinks bitterly.  
  
“Well then! Shall we be off?” Claude tilts his head cutely, and Byleth feels her resentment for the cold melt away, enamoured by his rosy cheeks and wide grin.  
  
“Lead the way.”  
  
Claude reaches for her pockets in a swift motion, ignoring Byleth’s uncharacteristic yelp. He reaches for her hands, rubbing them between his warm and gloved fingers and Byleth allows a small gasp to escape her lips.   
  
“Here, we can share!” Claude takes off one of his gloves and hands it to Byleth who accepts hesitantly.   
  
“But now you’re gonna have one cold hand?” She can’t help the question that follows Claude’s actions, watching as he helps her put on the glove. It’s a little bit on the large side but oh-so warm and Byleth sighs contently.   
  
“No, we’re not.” Claude wraps his fingers around Byleth’s hand, and she stiffens slightly. He was so  _ warm _ . It was  _ unfair _ .   
  
Claude tightens his grip on her hand, tilting his head. “Are you okay? Do you want me to let go?”  
  
Byleth wants to poke fun at him for doing exactly the opposite of his question. Wants to tell him she’s just caught off guard by his warmth. That she actually quite likes the feeling of her hand in his, the way his slightly calloused thumb strokes over the back of her hand. The way he draws small circles and patterns, like this is something he always does whenever they hold hands.  
  
Byleth wonders why the sense of nostalgia hits her so hard when he’s a face she can’t remember.  
  
Instead of voicing any of this, she squeezes his hand tightly. She nuzzles her face deeper into her scarf, so her face is just her green eyes peeking out over the edge. Claude’s rosy cheeks intensify to a bright red and Byleth nudges him with her elbow. “We should get out of the cold, you’re turning red.”  
  
“Yes, that’s totally it!” Claude’s voice is giddy and slightly shaky and Byleth frowns. He doesn’t give her time to contemplate the meaning of his tone shift. Instead, Byleth allows herself to be dragged away as Claude cheers, “Let’s go! Coffee time! Yeah!”  
  
“Yeah,” she echoes with significantly less gusto and enthusiasm as Claude, who has his free hand up in the air clenched into a tight fist. He turns to her to grin widely and Byleth is secretly glad her scarf hides her lips mimicking the expression.  
  


***

The cafe Claude brings her to is cosy.   
  
It’s also full of memories.   
  
“Isn’t this where we first met?” Byleth asks, as Claude sits her down in a corner booth. He takes her coat and scarf like a gentleman, hanging them up on the rack next to them. Byleth allows herself to look around, taking in the completely new style. “I hardly recognise the place.”  
  
Byleth only remembers this place as the bar she and her girls used to perform at. She knew it was a cafe during the daytime, the way the booths had been arranged gave off that impression but she only ever was there at night. She would dance around the stage, belting out notes she had practised and singing songs that gave her adrenaline rushes for days.   
  
There used to be a bright white neon sign on the right side above the bar. Anna, the previous owner, had called her centrepiece. Byleth had always liked the fact the bar was called Awakening, like the world outside the bar was asleep but in here people woke up. It felt more alive that way. The neon sign has been replaced with bold black letters spelling “The Golden Deer” with a heavily stylised deer head next to it. Byleth does like the colours, the golden yellow and black compliment each other nicely.   
  
“Do you like it?” Claude asks, as he sits down. He drags his beanie off, running his hand through the mess of hair that appears. It’s unruly and static, the wool having messed up any semblance of a proper hairdo.   
  
Byleth does her best not to reach over and fix his hair herself. It’s not because she wants to feel how soft his hair must be. She’s certain it’s because she wants to fix that one strand that’s sticking upright. She briefly imagines Lysithea staring at her and fights the urge to shake her head. There is something stirring in her heart and she’s not sure she likes it.  
  
Claude seems oblivious to her internal strife and instead bumps his foot against hers. “I asked if you liked it?”  
  
“It’s very different from before.” She ends up replying, glancing around. “But it’s not bad.”  
  
Claude sighs relieved. “Oh, I am so glad to hear it! I’ve been busting my back trying to fix this place up.” He turns to the counter where a familiar face waves.   
  
“Isn’t that Ignatz?” Byleth asks, watching Claude wave enthusiastically, “The guy at the other cafe we went to?”   
  
Claude gives her a surprised glance over, “Yeah he is. He worked part-time at that place but they treated him horribly. I offered him to come work here with a better salary and work hours.”  
  
Byleth nods slowly, watching how Ignatz moves over to them pulling a notepad from his apron. He smiles at them warmly and Byleth observes how Claude makes a few jokes and Ignatz responds in a similar fashion. Claude’s body language is relaxed; he has his arm draped over the back of the couch, slouching down slightly. It makes him look up at Ignatz with a slight angle, something Claude doesn’t seem to mind. Byleth’s gaze catches on his mustard coloured shirt, matching a little too well with the deer graphic on the wall.   
  
Byleth realises she’s been staring when Claude makes eye contact and winks. “Like what you see?” he teases, sitting up from his slouched position. Ignatz coughs and Claude laughs loudly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll tone it down.”  
  
“You are terrible, you know that.” Ignatz points an accusing finger at Claude and Byleth watches with a small smile. Claude puts his hands up and Ignatz scowls at him.   
  
“You make a fun pair,” she says, watching Claude’s chest swell with pride and Ignatz smile brightly.  
  
“Ignatz is one of the realest friends I have,” Claude explains, his eyes sparkling. He moves his hands as he launches into their origin story and Byleth feels bad for only picking up half of it. She’s too busy being enamoured by Claude’s energy, the way his eyes light up as he goes on to say how Ignatz saved his life back in college by helping him design a logo for something. How his face doesn’t have enough room for his smile as he tells her Ignatz absolutely ripped his previous design to shreds and made him something so amazing Claude knew that one day Ignatz was going to be the greatest artist ever.   
  
Byleth doesn’t realise Claude has stopped talking until she feels Ignatz’ eyes burn a hole in her head. She quickly adjusts her posture, ignoring the way Ignatz and Claude send each other quick and sly grins. Instead, she comments, “Like I said, a fun pair.”  
  
They order their drinks and snacks with relative speed and ease. A matcha hot chocolate for Byleth with a slice of red velvet cake and a diabetes-inducing drink with an equally deadly and dangerous slice of cake for Claude.  
  
Claude puts up his hands defensively. “Hey, I deserve something sweet after all the work I put into this place.”   
  
Byleth watches him with her lips drawn into a fine line. “You’re not supposed to die right after finishing a project you know.”  
  
Claude pulls out his phone, pointedly ignoring her comment. “What is life without the occasional diabetic shock?” He types out something and Byleth takes the time to check her own notifications.  
  
She scrolls through her messages; the number of unread messages in the few group chats she’s in keeps increasing and Byleth does not have the energy to read along. She does spot her favourite redhead in the list, the number 6 highlighted in green next to her name.  
  
**> >Annette: **hey By!!  
**> >Annette:** how are youuuu doing???  
**> >Annette: **so!! Exciting!! News!!!   
**> >Annette: **the boys and I managed to get into The Festival  
**> >Annette: **sooo…  
**> >Annette: **are you interested in a ticket??? /eye emoji/  
  
**< <Byleth**: Oh, that sounds wonderful. Congratulations! When is the concert? I’d love a ticket.  
  
She looks up from her phone to take a peek at Claude, still preoccupied with his own phone. He seems lost in thought as he stares up at the ceiling. His features are scrunched together in a frown but it’s gone before Byleth can blink and he’s back to typing fanatically.  
  
**< <Byleth:** Actually, if it’s possible, I’d like one extra? If I can bring a plus one, that is.  
  
Byleth knows Annette will get back to her soon, so she puts her phone on the table. Claude finishes up his business too and he gives her his undivided attention by placing his phone face-down on the table.   
  
“So,” he starts, putting his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly so he can rest his head on his locked fingers. “You said you knew this place? Before I renovated it?”  
  
Byleth nods, “I used to come here a lot. Before Anna closed it down.” Claude watches her in silence and Byleth feels herself rushing to add, “I never came during the day though, I’m sure she ran a cafe during the day. I just know it as the bar she ran at night.”  
  
“Oh, a party girl?” Claude’s eyebrows shoot up so high, Byleth has to physically restrain herself from snorting. “I never expected you to be wild like that. Were you part of her ‘entertainment unit’?” Claude wiggles his eyebrows and Byleth stares in horror.   
  
Was he really suggesting what she thought he was? Did he really just ask her if she was part of an “entertainment unit”? Byleth looks down at herself, her turtleneck sweater and jeans and wonders what part of her screams “entertainment unit”.   
  
“Actually, she hears herself saying, slightly more heated than she intends to, “I was part of the band that performed here every weekend. I was part of a different kind of entertainment unit.”  
  
She can’t help the disdain dripping off the words 'entertainment unit’, but it seems lost on Claude. His attention is hooked on the word “band”.   
  
He whistles lowly, his eyes twinkling with fascination. “A band you say?”   
  
Byleth nods, wondering what she got herself into now. “Yes, a band.”  
  
Claude leans further into her space, the excitement in his eyes make him seem so much younger and Byleth feels herself drawn in. She plays with a stray strand of her hair, contemplating what she wants to tell him.  
  
“We were called Silent Screams,” Byleth starts slowly. Her eyes are focused on the trees right outside the cafe. She watches the wind play with the snow that’s gathered on the branches, weirdly relating to that floating feeling. “It consisted of me and four other girls. I was the vocalist and songwriter.”   
  
Byleth turns to Claude and feels her blood run cold. Claude’s looking at her with a mixture of confusion and shock. He recovers instantly when he realises Byleth is looking at him. His lips turn into his easy smile, the smile that used to look so charming but Byleth realises it’s a fake this time.   
  
Before she can say anything about it, Ignatz brings them their orders. He smiles gently at Byleth, putting her orders down first. Claude makes an offhand comment but Byleth doesn’t smile. She’s trying to figure out what brought that expression on his face.   
  
Was it something she said? Did he know her from her time in the band and that’s why he reacted like that? That couldn't be true, she reasons. Byleth had all her memories from a few years back, it couldn’t be that she didn’t remember him.  
  
She looks up at Claude, tilting her head slightly. There was no way she wouldn’t remember his face. Those eyes had been haunting her since the first time she met, the way they pierced through her soul and yet sparkle like emeralds. She would never have been able to forget him if he had been part of the crowd. She would’ve noticed him, she’s sure of it.  
  
Byleth is pulled from her thoughts when she feels Claude’s (warm!) hand on hers. “Byleth?” he asks, his voice full of worry and concern. His eyebrows are knitted together, and Byleth wants to smooth out the lines.   
  
Her fingers gently rub against the space between his eyebrows before she can stop herself. “You shouldn’t frown like that,” she mumbles, letting her fingers rest against his forehead. She pouts without realising as she adds, “I like it best when you genuinely smile.”  
  
Claude watches her intently, a soft blanket of red crawling its way down his face to his neck. The tips of his ears turn red too and Byleth realises with a shock what she just did. She pulls her hand back quickly, her cheeks feeling so hot she knows she would rival a tomato in colour.  
  
Claude reaches for her hand, holding it in place on the table. He links their fingers together, his free hand covering most of his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her and Byleth’s brain decides that’s the perfect time to take a break.  
  
“I don’t know what came over me!” she sputters, all reason lost to her. “I just didn’t want you to frown like that!”  
  
Claude still doesn’t say anything, but the hand holding Byleth’s starts rubbing circles across the back of her hand. His fingers leave a trail of warmth behind and Byleth feels like she’s on fire.   
  
“I never said I minded,” Claude murmurs, his gaze on their locked hands. “You’re dangerous.”   
  
“You’re the dangerous one,” Byleth responds, slightly heated. She hates how whiny it makes her sound. Lysithea would laugh if she saw her now. Byleth quickly pushes the image of a laughing Lysithea to the back of her mind, where a tiny, annoyed voice pipes up _“I can’t believe you’re being so wishy-washy with your feelings!”  
  
_Byleth resists the urge to shake her head. It had been a long time since she had heard _that_ voice in her head. Not wanting to worry herself with things outside of her control, Byleth lets out a resigned sigh.   
  
Claude smiles softly at her, shy and unsure. “Are you okay?”  
  
Byleth nods her head, “I’m fine. Sorry to worry you. This is quite new to me.”   
  
Claude laughs a bit at that, releasing her hand so he can pick up his cup of liquid sugar. He gives Lysithea a run for her money, Byleth thinks as he stirs the concoction. “Honestly, me too. People think I’m super smooth and get around but that couldn’t be further from the truth, really.”  
  
Byleth lets the information sink in, stirring her own drink. That was interesting, she thinks, as Claude takes a sip and exhales dramatically. Interesting, how he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability in admitting that, Byleth puts it in her mental folder of information she’s gathered about the man in front of her.   
  
Claude doesn’t seem as surprised by his own actions and he takes a bite of his cake. “Ohhh, that’s divine!” He holds up his fork filled with as much cake as humanly possible and waits expectantly.  
  
“You’re not planning on feeding me, are you?” Byleth asks, taking her drink and sipping as slow as she can. She can feel her blush coming back, Claude’s actions fitting perfectly in a romantic Disney movie. It flusters her.  
  
Claude doesn’t say anything and instead leans over the table and shakes his fork for added emphasis. His eyes sparkle and he pouts slightly. Byleth can feel her heart beat faster and sighs defeatedly. She takes hold of his hands, wrapping her fingers around his delicately and takes the bite.   
  
Byleth closes her eyes as she chews through the sugar bomb, the taste so heavy on her tongue she feels like she might choke. “You actually enjoy that?! It tasted so sweet! Too sweet!”  
  
Despite her mumbling and grumbling, Byleth makes the mental note to bring Lysithea here. She would love the place and its menu.   
  
Claude’s eyes twinkle as he chuckles. “I really do love seeing all your different expressions.” He says offhandedly, twisting his fork back into his cake. He eats on merrily, acting unaware to the building tornado of feelings in Byleth’s brain.   
  
Byleth doesn’t know what to say or how to feel. She watches him eat his cake and sip his drink and she wonders if she’s overthinking this. Is he messing with her? Trying to wrap her around his finger and play around? Byleth mentally hits herself over the head, there’s no way he would.   
  
_Says who_ , comes the annoying voice again and Byleth wants to hiss at it. I do, she thinks bitterly, almost defiantly.  
  
“Say, about your workplace,” Claude starts the topic with a light airy tone. It sets Byleth on edge, there’s something in the way he looks. The way he started stabbing his food more violently, swirling bits of his cake sending crumbs flying across the table.  
  
“What about it?” Byleth asks, trying to go for the same airy tone. She takes a diplomatically sized bite of her own cake, silently enjoying its taste.  
  
“Have you ever met the headmaster?” Claude doesn’t look up at her as he asks his question. “I hear she’s supposedly the nicest person alive. With all her donations and whatnot.”  
  
Byleth frowns. “I did, twice. No, wait, three times. Once during my interview and twice after. Why do you ask? I don’t think you’re compiling a list of Fódhlan’s Most Charitable People.”  
  
Claude wants to say something but his phone buzzes. He looks annoyed by it but picks it up to check the caller ID regardless. “Sorry, I gotta take this,” he mumbles, scrambling to get up from the table and picks up.   
  
Byleth watches him storm off to the backroom, passing by Ignatz who gives him a firm but swift nod. She makes eye contact with Ignatz who waves at her, but it feels like he’s waving her off instead. Byleth decides to not let it get to her.   
  
Claude wasn’t entitled to open up about his entire life. He was allowed to have his secrets. It’s not like she was an open book around him either.   
  
_But he gets under your skin like no one else does_ , comes the voice and Byleth physically shakes her head.   
  
She grabs her phone, tapping her password in mindlessly and scrolls through her pictures to find the owner of the voice. She drags her fingers across the family picture, where a green-haired girl frowns at the camera. Byleth sports a similar frown at the camera, as she’s seated next to the green-haired girl. Jeralt has his hands on their shoulders, his lips pulled up in a lopsided grin.   
  
“Why are you haunting me again, Sothis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biggest shout out to my beta who helped me out despite being sick! krmochis this one is for you <3
> 
> I know I complained last chapter about writer's block and life being rude and while that hasn't changed, I still wanted to update this chapter. Sometimes things don't really go as planned. But still, I think trying our best is what matters most and that's something I've been struggling with a lot. I know no one really cares about these little end notes ramblings, but I feel like it's only fair I share a bit of the background that goes into this fic. This is my first real multi-chapter fic and I am still very unsure about how I go about it. Either way, this fic has been writing itself a lot lately, with scenes and plotpoints coming up without me really being aware of it haha but I want to them justice so I want to take my time exploring what I /really/ want. I guess life kicking my butt makes me want to take my time? Knowing me though, I'll be here in two weeks being all "guess what I made it after all! :D". Anyway, I guess it being my birthday this week made me extra aware of reflecting on myself and whatever this philosophical nonsense is. So yeah! There you have it!
> 
> Those were a lot of words. Let me end it with a few simple ones:  
> Thanks for reading, leaving comments and kudos. It means the world to me ♥


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Official coffee date #2 continues...!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....i have no excuse for this late update besides LIFE. So without further ado, here's the chapter. I'm sorry it's slightly shorter than usual :(

Byleth shakes her head as she stabs her slice of cake absentmindedly. She has abandoned her phone again, waiting for Claude to return from his phone call. She wants to check if Annette responded to her messages yet but the fact she can hear Sothis so clearly this afternoon bothers her too much. She wants to stay away from her phone and the memories hidden in her gallery.   
  
It had been a while since she had last heard Sothis’ voice in her head. Byleth briefly wonders if she remembers the pitch right; she feels shaken up because she now has to worry about such details. Would she even be able to remember her father’s voice? She suppresses a shudder and stabs her cake again.  
  
Jeralt had adopted Sothis after they moved back from their remote forest cabin, when it was time for Byleth to enrol into school. When she had learned everything Jeralt had to offer her and still wanted _more_. Sothis had been through a lot of foster families, some worse and some better but once she ran away from her latest home and had hidden herself in the Eisner family garden, Jeralt found himself unable to send her away.   
  
There had been no certificates or information regarding Sothis’ birth, just that she was found at a local orphanage when she looked to be around a year old. Nobody knew for sure, especially when Sothis grew up to look younger than average.   
  
Jeralt dubbed Byleth the older sister and he kept it at that. Jeralt had never cared for their ages, instead focusing on them as individuals and Byleth had liked that. She had carried herself with all the poise and awkwardness befitting of a sudden older sister but for the most part, Sothis tolerated her. They had a friendship stronger than steel and Byleth had always cherished her little family.   
  
But then Jeralt died so suddenly, and neither Sothis or Byleth found time to grief. Just when Byleth had gotten over her shock, when her words returned to her at long last, Sothis passed away just as suddenly.   
  
Life just wasn’t fair.  
  
Byleth is pulled from her thoughts when her phone buzzes. She picks it up to see Annette has got back to her on the tickets. Byleth feels her lips instantly curl up, Annette’s energy was something to fear. Even across great distances she managed to light up her day.  
  
**> >Annette:** ohhhh do you have someone in mind to bring along?? /eye emoji/  
**> >Annette: **but no worries i got you covered!  
**> >Annette: **i’ll come by this weekend and give you the tickets!  
**> >Annette:** oh and a request from fe, pls dont bring lys since he’s worried she’ll make him eat cupcakes again  
**> >Annette: **sylv and fe are looking forward to seeing you again!  
  
**< <Byleth:** You’re the best Annette. I look forward to seeing the others too. Please do give them my regards.  
  
Byleth taps out of their conversation, opening different group chats just to get rid of the notifications. None of the words register, and Byleth feels a bit ashamed she’s distancing herself from her already small group of friends. She’s expecting a call or text from Mercedes any day now, asking her to catch up over a cup of tea which is code for “I am worried about you, let me make sure you’re healthy”. Annette popping up out of nowhere with tickets could’ve easily been part of the “I wanna check up on you” game her friends tended to play when Byleth went socially missing for a while.  
  
It’s not that she does it on purpose. Part of it truly is work being tiring, that it exhausts her to the point a single notification makes her body feel even heavier. Even if it’s Mercedes showing off the latest bouquets she and Dedue had created.  
  
Byleth’s lips curl up at the memory of Mercedes and Dedue’s wedding. It was so full of flowers and it had felt so warm. The memory makes her want to properly read the “who will propose first”-bet group chat. It was an ongoing bet of who between Felix and Annette would propose first. Lysithea was convinced it was Felix, Mercedes and Sylvain had their money on Annette and Byleth was the only one who voted both. Dedue had politely opted to not bet on either one but Mercedes had whispered over a cup of tea that she was convinced he was Team Felix.   
  
Not that they were ready to propose yet, no, Annette and Felix were still in the “do they like _like_ me phase”. It drove everyone, especially Sylvain, who was stuck watching their interactions daily as part of their band practice, insane. Not that Sylvain was one to talk with his mess of a love life.   
  
Byleth fights the urge to smile as she thinks about her small little band of friends, suddenly glad she’s not as alone as she was a few years ago. She glances over to the counter, where Ignatz shoots her an apologetic smile. She waves back, hoping she doesn’t seem annoyed. Claude really was taking a long time to finish up that call. Byleth stirs her drink, resting her head on the palm of her hand, watching the swirls in her lukewarm drink.   
  
Dates with Claude felt weird. The first one was something straight out of a fever dream. Byleth frowns, how did he find her where he did? It wasn’t like he accidentally walked into the cafe. It had been closed for a few weeks, Byleth wasn’t even supposed to be in there. But Claude had walked in with confidence. He hadn’t seemed surprised to see her there.   
  
Why?  
  
Byleth plays with the idea that he was a Silent Screams fan once again, twists the possibilities around in her mind until only the facts remain. There was no way Claude was a fan. He wouldn’t have been as calm and Byleth thinks, placing a hand on her chest where her heart plays an impromptu drum solo, she _would_ have noticed him. It would’ve been too hard not to.  
  
But if not from her band days, when did she first cross paths with Claude? Back when her father and herself lived in their forest cottage? Before she lost her memories? Would he even recognise her?   
  
Something tells her he would. That he already did. Byleth closes her eyes, leaning her head back. All this thinking is giving her a headache. Why couldn’t he just be upfront about it if that were the case? Why make her life this difficult?  
  
_But what’s life without a little mystery?_ comes Sothis’ voice and Byleth’s lips curl upwards without her permission. She’ll just have to look through her photo books at home. Try and see if there’s anything hidden in there.  
  
“Sorry to keep you waiting!”   
  
Byleth turns her head over to Claude, who scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. He straightens up, flattens his shirt and shoots her an apologetic smile. “I didn’t expect that call to take so long. I’m sorry!”  
  
Byleth waves her hand, hoping she comes across as relaxed and forgiving. “It’s okay.” She points at his drink, “I do think your drink is cold now.”  
  
“Ah, I don’t care about the drink at this point.” Claude drops down unceremoniously on his seat, stretching his legs so he almost kicks Byleth. His body goes slack and he looks tired. Byleth tilts her head at him, resting her head on her hand.   
  
“Was it a bad call?” she asks, hesitantly. Claude glances up at her, the exhaustion almost dripping off him.   
  
“Nah,” he says, straightening up. He gives his drink a swirl and shakes his head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It was just a customer asking for a specific order.”  
  
“Ah, like catering?” Byleth wonders why she’s being so proactive in this conversation. Claude seems distant, more than he did before he picked up the phone. He stares out of the window, his jawline taut. He looks upset but Byleth doesn’t know how to soothe him. If he wants to be soothed at all.  
  
The tension is his face has something akin to determination. Like he doesn’t mind the stress, that he has decided he’s going to be doing this and that’s final. It has an admirable quality to it, Byleth thinks as Claude sighs, pulling his shoulders up to his ears before dropping them low.   
  
The action seems to wear him out even more and she wonders how she can help him.   
  
“Claude?” Byleth reaches for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his. It seems to pull him out of his thoughts and back to the present.   
  
“Hm?” Claude smiles, the sight sending shivers down Byleth’s spine. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about something. You were saying?”  
  
Byleth grips his hand tighter, trying to not let her worry show. “I asked if you were going to do some catering.”  
  
Claude changes their hands so their fingers interlock. “Oh, yeah. I guess you could call it that. The first step will be collecting information.”  
  
Byleth sighs in relief when Claude’s expression softens over. He quickly shoves the remains of his cake into his mouth. He’s slightly clumsy, Byleth notes, as he struggles using his left hand.   
  
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you let go of my hand?” Byleth asks, resting her chin on her free hand.   
  
“Would be,” Claude replies, forking another clumsy bite of cake into his mouth. “Doesn’t mean I want to.”  
  
Byleth giggles at that. The noises flutter up from her stomach, past her heart where an impromptu drum solo has kicked off and she realises she enjoys the feeling. The fluttering of feelings, the way her cheeks feel hot and how she can’t help but be enamoured by the man in front of her.   
  
It makes her want to take a leap of faith.   
  
“Hey, can I ask a question?” Byleth watches Claude freeze mid-motion, his fork halfway to his mouth. He nods once, watching Byleth cover her mouth with her hand to stop more giggles from escaping. “My friend has a gig soon, would you like to be my plus one?”  
  
Claude’s eyes widen and his expression shifts from surprise to excitement. “Oh, are you asking me on a _date_ -date?”   
  
“I am.” Byleth surprises herself with how confident she sounds when her entire body feels like it’s on fire. Claude’s smile grows further into a lopsided grin, his grip on her hands tightening.   
  
“So when is this gig?” Claude fishes his phone out of his pocket, while Byleth reaches for her own.   
  
“It’s in two weeks, Saturday night?” Byleth reads the follow up text Annette sent, watching Claude’s expression slowly darken.   
  
Byleth feels the little flame of hope die down in her chest, Claude’s expression summoning rain clouds. It seeps into her skin, spreading a cold feeling across her limbs.  
  
“Bad fit?” she asks, slipping her hand out of Claude’s grip. He watches her fold her hands on her lap, watches her lean back in her seat.  
  
“Yeah, a buddy of mine asked me to come with him someplace. I already accepted that and it’s kinda big.” Claude scratches his neck sheepishly. “We’re really bad at these dates, aren’t we?”  
  
Byleth nods, her face slowly stiffening up. There’s nothing she can do, she reasons as she looks down at her hands. She pulls at a bit of skin sticking out next to her nail, inwardly cursing whatever deity is interfering in her plans.   
  
“Hey, it’s not your fault?” Claude’s voice is soft and Byleth looks up slightly startled.   
  
“Why?” she doesn’t know what she’s really asking. His reaction confuses her. His eyes are soft, looking at her with concern. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You look upset.” Claude crosses his arms, a frown appearing on his face. Byleth wants it to go away. “I don’t like this either, you know. I was really excited at the idea of going on another date with you.”  
  
“You were?” The question slips out from Byleth’s lips before she can think about it. It’s not like she’s unaware of Claude’s interest in her. In contrast to Lysithea, Byleth knows what her heart is trying to tell her. It’s a matter of how _fast_ this is all going that worries her.   
  
“Yeah, I like spending time with you, I like talking with you. You’re fun to be around, you’re someone I feel like I can trust.” Claude smiles shyly, as if he’s just now realising how much of himself he’s bearing to Byleth. “You’re someone I’m very interested in getting to know even better.”  
  
Byleth’s eyes widen, her heartbeat picking up. She can feel her blood thumping in her ears, the world around them slowing down. That’s a confirmation she wasn’t really expecting to come out of this schemer’s mouth.   
  
“I hadn’t expected that,” she admits truthfully which causes Claude to laugh. “I thought you would keep it more ambiguous.”  
  
“I feel like these things are best said bluntly.” Claude hooks his fingers together behind his head, looking around the cafe. “I like you, Byleth. I just don’t know how much yet. But I would love to find out.”  
  
Byleth feels another blush wash over her, wondering if this is going to be a common occurrence with Claude. “I can’t be that open.”   
  
Claude grins, unhooking his hands and leaning over the table. “You don’t have to be, your blushing and stuttering face is enough for me. I think, Byleth, you may like me too. But it’s okay, I’ll wait.”  
  
Byleth nods, not trusting her voice to help her out here. She puts a hand on her chest, feeling how her heart is about to burst. Claude seems endeared by the sight, bringing a hand up to cover his face. If Byleth squints she can barely make out blotches of red peeking out between his fingers.  
  
It brings a smile to her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big and warm thank you to my lovely beta, krmochis. Despite being ill, they still fixed up this chapter and talked me through most of my writer's block. Thank you friend.
> 
> I hope you guys are all doing well, especially in the state the world is. It's okay if your motivation or energy is low now, there's so much happening and give yourself time to recover. Stay safe, stay inside, take care of yourself, okay? I'm rooting for you ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading and see you guys soon ♥


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth does things she didn't remember she could do. Byleth drags Lysithea out of her warm cocoon to traverse the winter hurdles. Byleth and Claude just barely miss each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous wave* hello, remember me?  
> I want to apologise for how long it took me to get this chapter out. Life just wasn't really kind to me the past few months. Lots of things changed for me, I graduated, I started a job, I was severely burnt out, I had writer's block, and my mental health took such a bad turn I don't think a map could put me on the right path again, but I'm doing significantly better now so I've crawled back to upload this new chapter! I do think that for now the upload schedule might be delayed to once a month instead of every two weeks. I don't want to commit to an upload schedule I can't keep up with, but please know I am very dilligently working on the next chapters! Without further ado, enjoy this chapter!!

Byleth doesn’t know how it happened, but she knows it happened. She also knows she is the reason it happened, but she doesn’t know  _ how  _ it happened.  
  
Byleth stares at the piece of paper in front of her and drags her fingers across the notes on the lines. There are some random lines of lyrics scattered on the sheets, her handwriting almost illegible. The words had flowed from her brain to her hand and bled on to the page, leaving Byleth to stare at the result in shock afterwards.  
  
It had started when Claude offered to walk her home. He was still a bit red from their not-quite-there confessions but had composed himself rather well. Byleth, on the other hand, felt like she was on fire, her mind racing faster than she could keep up with. She’d given up on trying to keep up, much less attempting to slow it down. Byleth had come to terms that her mind and heart racing was just a side effect of spending time with Claude.  
  
They walked in relative silence; Claude was humming a song they heard in the café and that’s when it happened. Byleth had only noticed she was humming herself when Claude stopped walking next to her. He smiled gently, and she felt embarrassment flush all over her cheeks .   
  
She had questioned him, and with that gentle smile, he told her it was a lovely melody. Byleth didn’t know how to respond to that so the rest of their journey was spent in uncomfortable silence. Once they had arrived at the station, Claude lingered. He watched Byleth play with her scarf as she waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, choosing to cross his hands behind his head, she took the first step to mumble a short goodbye and practically ran to her platform.   
  
While the air felt heavy with her uncomfortable feelings, one thing had changed: she was now accompanied by a melody she hadn’t heard before. It sounded familiar, like an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while. Their appearance had changed, their usual hair length switched up, a fresh layer of hair dye to boot, but they still sported the same smile. This melody reminded her of everything she had ever written, but different.  
  
Her train ride felt nearly too long, and Byleth tapped the rhythm against her knee in fear of otherwise forgetting it. Her legs carried her faster than she knew she was capable of as soon as her stop was announced, nearly running the fifteen-minute walk to her apartment.  
  
She had kicked off her shoes, coat and winter accessories by the door, stepping over them and stumbling to grab sheet paper she knew she had lying around somewhere, unable to throw them away no matter how many times she had considered it.   
  
And that brought her to the not-quite-finished song in front of her. The friend who had decided to tap her shoulder as they passed each other in a crowded station. The friend who had asked her how she’d been, it had been a while.  
  
Byleth hums the melody carefully, her fingers itching for her keyboard or guitar. It had been a while since she last felt the need to play and get the music out of her system. The notes on paper seem empty and lack the punch she knows her songs used to have.   
  
“I shouldn’t just be humming this.” Byleth taps out the rhythm with her fingers against the table. It doesn’t satisfy her nearly as much as she would’ve liked, she needed her guitar.  
  
She gets up in another flurry, startling her cats in the meantime. They scamper off in different directions and Byleth mumbles quick apologies. She has more pressing matters to attend to, she’s certain her cats will be fine.  
  
She’s more worried about herself. It wasn’t like her to be so all over the place. Even less like her to allow the adrenaline in her body to guide her decisions. Byleth had always been proud of her ability to stay calm in heated situations. To be methodical in her executions of any task. Sure, it made her peers call her a robot and question whether she was able to feel emotions properly. Even Jeralt had worried at first, but he had learned that underneath her calm and composed exterior, her emotions ran rampant within her mind. Byleth was a master of controlling her emotions but in order to master them, she had to be familiar with them, get to know them and be intimately connected to herself.  
  
Even if that meant pushing herself to her emotional limits. But that’s what her music was always for. To push beyond the limits and take that extra step. To give voice to the emotions hiding behind her blank stares. To give voice to her worries and anxieties. To give voice to her pain and happiness.   
  
To give herself a voice and make sure she is  _ heard _ .   
  
Byleth takes deep breaths as she skids to a halt in front of a closet she hasn’t opened for some time. For at least three long years. Her heart is beating heavy in her chest, painfully almost. Byleth’s hands ball into fists as she shakes her head.  _ It’s okay _ , she thinks to herself as she unfurls her hands again. “It’s okay.”   
  
All caution to the wind, she pulls it open. Her breath hitches in her throat when she grabs Jeralt’s old guitar, covered in cobwebs. Her keyboard isn’t in better shape, she notices, feeling a heavy weight settle itself on her shoulders.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles to the instruments. They’re relics from her past, containing memories far beyond her own. They didn’t deserve to be locked away like that.   
  
By doing that, she had locked away a part larger than just herself. Jeralt’s memories are ingrained into the strings, the spots both Jeralt and her own fingers had scratched the wood up, the faded stickers. The guitar represented the time Jeralt had spent teaching her the intricacies of certain chords. Had watched her bite her lip in frustration when she couldn’t get it down. The way her fingers hurt day in day out until she could play without leaving red marks behind. The smile she had on her face once she finally pulled off that difficult bridge and the way Jeralt’s roughened hands ruffled her hair in pride.  
  
It makes Byleth emotional, which is unbecoming of who she is. She’s not composed, she’s not calm. There is no control here.   
  
Byleth runs her fingers over the guitar, tears forming in her eyes. As she closes her eyes she can hear Sothis’ voice in her mind, soothing and sweet. “I miss him,” she whispers, “I miss him so much.”   
  
Byleth retracts her hand, slipping to the ground, her legs unable to carry her weight. “I miss them,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, “I miss making music, I miss having fun, I miss having my girls around. I miss him, I miss you.”  
  
Byleth pulls her legs up to her chest, hugging herself like she hasn’t done in years. She imagines Sothis floating around her, putting her tiny arms around her in the bear hugs she would sometimes give her.   
  
“ _ It’s alright, you’ll be alright, silly girl. _ ” Byleth imagines Sothis saying, her voice soothing. “ _ You’ll be alright.” _   
  
Byleth echoes the words until they stop sounding hollow, her own voice strengthening herself and her resolve. “I’ll be alright.” She can almost feel a tiny hand pat her on the head, and a larger hand ruffle her hair, a little bit clumsily but oh-so-familiar.  
  
“I’ll be alright.”  
  
After a few more moments on the floor, allowing herself to let out all the tears, Byleth feels refreshed. She doesn’t like to cry, hates the headache that plagues her afterwards. But the moment right after her tears dry, the moment her mind is free of the otherwise constant buzzing, that makes it worth it.   
  
Her mind cleared, Byleth gets up from the floor. She dusts herself off, feeling like she’s standing taller than she has in a long time. It’s almost as if she can feel Jeralt’s hand on her back as he gives her his blessing to do whatever she wants.   
  
“I’ll be okay.” The words don’t feel hollow anymore and Byleth feels the muscles in her face relax. She looks down at the instruments and nods to herself. “Better get to work.”  
  
Byleth brings the dust-covered instruments to the living room, laying them out on the floor. She rests her chin on her hand for a moment, considering the best way to clean them. She makes a quick stop at her kitchen, collecting a tub of warm water, a variety of towels and dustcloths.   
  
“Here goes nothing,” Byleth mumbles before getting to cleaning.   
  
The living room is quiet, except for Byleth’s humming. She flows between different songs reminding her of various gigs and allows the memories to flood her mind. Her kittens come to lay with her, rubbing their heads against her leg as she scrubs some kind of grime from between the keys on her keyboard.   
  
“Hey, little one,” she murmurs, wiping her hands on her leggings before scratching one of the kittens behind its ears. “Look at me, can you remember the last time I cleaned my instruments?”  
  
There’s a string of little mews and Byleth allows herself to laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”  
  
She hums another song, the first song she ever wrote. Byleth smiles as she remembers the many different versions that exist, the way all of her girls had pitched in to create a song that would end up being their trademark. Every gig ended with a performance of “ _ Silently Screaming” _ , not only the band’s favourite but also a crowd favourite.   
  
The lyrics find her easily, the words flowing and flowing. Byleth doesn’t normally like her songs acapella, but now, as she considers the cleaning job of her keyboard done, she doesn’t mind. Words that remind her of evenings spent in Jeralt’s garage, surrounded by laughter, amateur guitar riffs, clumsy drum solos and false notes, fill up her living room, making it feel more like home than it has in years.  
  
Byleth pulls Jeralt’s old guitar closer to her, using a cloth to get the dust from below the strings. The strings are rusty; the humid closet did not help it age well. Byleth carefully cleans the head, working her way around the tuning keys and down to the nut. She doesn’t want the strings to break, so she carefully wipes them down with a damp cloth.  
  
A whispered curse leaves her lips when a string does snap. It catches her nail, causing red droplets to spill from the broken skin. Her kittens scamper off, upset by the sudden noise. Meanwhile, Byleth gets up with a resigned sigh. She makes her way to the kitchen, grabbing her first aid supplies.   
  
She hums her new song as she cleans the cut and puts the bandage on. She pats herself down, looking for her phone.   
  
“Where did I leave my phone?” She questions aloud, walking back to the living room. The lightbulb in her head goes off when she passes the hallway and sees the mess she left behind in her flurry to get to composing.  
  
Byleth pulls out her phone from her coat pocket, dropping the coat back to the floor. Cleaning that up will be Future Byleth’s job. She notices the messages Claude had sent her, thumb hovering above his name just a few moments before tapping into her last conversation with Lysithea instead.   
  
**< <Byleth: ** Do you wanna come shop for guitar strings with me? 

  
***  
  


Byleth does nothing other than rolling her eyes when Lysithea tut-tuts at her, hand resting on her jutted out hip. From the looks of it, she’s been waiting in the cold for a few minutes, if her red nose is anything to go by. Her red ears and cheeks poke out just above her muffler, her white winter coat fluffy and making her seem like a snow fairy. Byleth decides not to comment on that, but Lysithea looks adorable.  
  
“You text me, out of the blue, saying you want to buy guitar strings, but offer me absolutely no explanation as to why?” Lysithea’s voice carries an annoyed edge but Byleth knows her best friend better than that.   
  
“And yet here you are,” Byleth ends up replying and Lysithea huffs indignantly. “I just want to fix up my guitar and then I’ll treat you to a strawberry parfait or something.”  
  
“Ohh!” Lysithea’s eyes widen to make room for the sparkles at the word “parfait”. Byleth allows herself a soft smile as Lysithea makes further inquiries about whether this offer includes chocolate sauce or not.   
  
“You’ll get everything you want and more.” Byleth hears herself saying and feels the wave of instant regret when Lysithea’s eyes gain an extra sparkle.   
  
It’s a good thing she got paid early this month.   
  
After Lysithea has her diabetes-inducing parfait, and Byleth has her guitar strings, the pair make their way to the venue the Black Knights are playing at. They had decided to get their shopping done on the same day as the concert to reduce the number of times they would have to venture out into the snow. Lysithea hated the cold, felt it more strongly than Byleth did and would usually stay inside for as long as she could. They would stream shows and series together remotely, neither of them up for the train ride and brisk walks to enjoy each other’s company physically.   
  
Byleth thinks it suits them just fine. It allows them to connect with their wider friend group too. It’s cosy, Byleth thinks, in the broader sense of the word. Cosy in the way friendship can withstand the test of distance over chats and video calls. It’s homely, it’s secure. It’s cosy.  
  
Byleth had also heard a birdie whisper a rumour about two workaholics and had been waiting for the perfect moment to figure out if Sylvain’s intel was trustworthy. The redhead had tipped her about another birdie who found out that Cyril had visited Lysithea recently.   
  
At her home.   
  
Byleth is certain that Sylvain’s source of intel is Annette, who somehow knew everything that was happening with everyone. Unsurprising, considering Annette is regarded as the easiest person to talk to in their extended friend group, but Byleth still feels a bit sad for being left in the dark regarding her favourite shoujo manga couple.  
  
“By the way, have you heard anything from Cyril recently?” Byleth asks conversationally, “He hasn’t been himself at work lately.”   
  
Lysithea blushes tomato red to the roots of her hair in response. “O-O-Oh, is that s-s-so?” She answers, digging her hands into her pockets and hiding her face in her muffler. “H-H-How odd.”  
  
“Yes, very,” Byleth pushes on, gloating underneath her own muffler. “He seemed really out of it, I wonder if something happened.”  
  
Lysithea makes a noise that could be a whine or a yelp and Byleth has to bite her lip to retain her giggles hidden. Lysithea was so much fun to tease.   
  
“I haven’t spoken to him,” Lysithea says, her voice muffled by her scarf and Byleth is convinced she’s pouting. “He has been avoiding me.”  
  
Byleth’s eyes widen, that was unexpected. She tells Lysithea as much. “I thought you two were really close.”  
  
Lysithea’s hands come up to cover her face and she lets out a whine. “I thought so too! But I messed things up! He wanted to borrow some books and I wanted to see him so I invited him over to my place so he could scope out what books he would like to read and he brought me flowers saying how it’s unfair to just always borrow things from me but never give me anything in return and I told him he didn’t have to do that but he said he felt like he had to and then he followed me to my library room and I tried to grab a book of the top shelf but I couldn’t reach it so he did that for me but he stood so close behind me I tensed up and I think he wanted to ask if I was okay but when I looked up at him he was way closer than I expected and we kissed and it was so awkward and I haven’t spoken to him since!”  
  
Lysithea stopped walking halfway her vent and Byleth watches as the younger girl takes deep breaths to calm down. Her face is red and she looks so uncomfortable Byleth instinctively opens her arms. Lysithea catapults herself into her arms, hiding her little sniffles and hiccups by pushing her face into Byleth’s shoulder.   
  
“What if I ruined everything?” Lysithea whispers and Byleth feels her heart break at how worried Lysithea sounds. “What if he’s freaked out?”  
  
“I think he might be worried about the same thing,” Byleth answers as she runs her hand through Lysithea’s hair. “He’s probably thinking of the exact same things you are.”  
  
“What if he doesn’t like me the way I like him?” Lysithea’s voice sounds so small and Byleth feels her heart break again. She had vowed to not get in between them and not be too involved in their relationship, but seeing Lysithea so worried is giving her second thoughts.  
  
“Would you like me to talk with him?” she offers kindly.   
  
Byleth knows it’s serious when Lysithea considers her help seriously. “I would like that.”  
  
They hug each other awkwardly in the cold for another few moments. Long enough for Lysithea to pretend her nose is red from the cold and not from sniffing away her tears. Byleth rubs her back soothingly, pointedly ignoring Lysithea’s little huff when she ruffles her hair.   
  
“It’ll be okay, Lys, I promise.” Byleth holds Lysithea’s hands for a short moment before flashing her a soft smile. Lysithea doesn’t say anything but instead offers her a weak smile in return. She squeezes Byleth’s hands tightly, her eyes still cloudy and glossy.   
  
“The concert’s starting soon,” Lysithea mumbles, pulling on Byleth’s hands.  
  
Byleth gets the hint loud and clear. She squeezes Byleth’s hands tightly and together they make their way to the venue.

  
***  
  


They’re squished together, the Black Knights having garnered quite the fanbase in the last few months. It has been a while since their last gig, Byleth thinks as she holds onto Lyisithea’s hand tightly, afraid she’ll lose her in the crowd. No wonder so many people decided to come and check out the Black Knights’ return. And at one of the most hyped-up bars in town too.   
  
Silent Screams used to perform on the same stage. It wasn’t their usual location, nor their favourite but The Festival, as people had started to call the bar because of its fun and warm atmosphere, had its charms.  
  
Lysithea grumbles some curse as a drunkard bumps into her and Byleth intervenes smoothly. She was good at this kind of crowd control, having been trained by none other than Jeralt. Jeralt had taken her to gigs from a relatively young age, happy to share something close to his heart with her. Sothis never quite liked the busy atmosphere of concerts and gigs, but she had always reserved front seats whenever Silent Screams performed.   
  
Byleth pulls Lysithea away, easily manoeuvring them closer to the right side of the stage. She knows where the good spots are. She knows where it’s safest for Lysithea, where the least amount of drunkards will gather. She allows instinct to take over and they find themselves tucked into the right corner.   
  
Byleth quickly looks around the room, content with their spot. She can catch glimpses of two redheads backstage, the raven-haired one a few steps behind them. Byleth loves this spot especially because she can catch glimpses Annette is rolling on the balls of her feet, her eyes closed. Sylvain is tapping out rhythms against his thighs while Felix checks their instruments  
  
Byleth knows she’ll enjoy what they’ll play. She trusts Felix’ composing skills. He made music that blew her mind away. The way he turned melodies to his hand, made the music do what he wanted. Combined with Annette’s powerful vocals and lyrics, they were unstoppable. A storm to witness. They had Sylvain to keep them grounded; without him, the world would be too small for Annette and Felix.  
  
The lights go out and three, different coloured beams hit the stage. Dark blue to the left, dark red to the back and bright orange to the front. One by one the members enter the stage. The crowd cheers for Sylvain, mostly higher-pitched voices screaming support. Felix is up next and the crowd goes absolutely ballistic. It’s a fair mixture of male and female voices screaming his name. Byleth has to hide a smirk, Felix looks most positively pissed off by it. The two men pick up their instruments and kick off an instrumental intro.   
  
Byleth knows this song, so does Lysithea who has her hands up and cheers loudly. Felix looks over his shoulder and the crowd roars when the first notes of Annette’s melodic voice fills up the room. She walks onto the stage, her back straight and head held high. Byleth loved watching Annette on stage. The elegance, the attitude, the energy. It was wonderful, it was beautiful. It gave her hope that she shone as bright as Annette does.  
  
“Hello everybody!” Annette’s voice rings loudly as the men around her pick up the instrumental again. “Welcome to The Festival, welcome to the best part of your night. We are the Black Knights and we’re here to rock your mind!”  
  
This time Byleth can’t stop herself from cheering along. 

  
***

  
Byleth’s phone buzzes in her pocket as she and Lysithea leave the venue. Lysithea elbows Byleth, who lazily fishes her phone out of her pocket. She’s absolutely drained of energy while adrenaline rushes through her blood simultaneously. Byleth wants to get home and finish writing her song, Felix’ bass solo having inspired the bridge she couldn’t figure out earlier. Still humming The Black Knights’ latest song, she checks the caller ID.   
  
The caller ID makes her wish she had put more haste into picking up.  
  
“Hello, Claude,” she says as soon as she picks up, ignoring Lysithea’s curious gaze. Her tiny friend leans in closer, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.   
  
“ _ Hey, Teach!”  _ comes Claude’s reply. His voice is slightly drowned out by the background rumble and Byleth strains her ears to hear the next sentence.   
  
“I’m sorry, it’s very hard to hear you,” she speaks up louder, startling Lysithea. She bows her head in an apology which Lysithea shakes her head to. Byleth presses a finger to her other ear, hoping to isolate Claude’s voice.  
  
_ "Ah, give me a sec! Hil, do you mind waiting for a bit? _ ” Claude sounds muffled like he pressed his phone to his shoulder and when he comes back, the audio is a lot clearer. _ “Is this better?”  
  
_ “Much better.” Byleth feels herself smile despite herself. “Sounds like you’re at some kind of concert.”  
  
Claude laughs, the sound surprisingly crisp.  _ “I actually am at a concert. My friend plays in a band and I went to go see him.”   
  
_ “That’s funny,” Byleth says as she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, “I just walked out of a friend’s concert too.”  
  
“ _ What are the odds, _ ” Claude muses, “ _ The Black Knights?”  
  
_ “The one and only.” Byleth laughs, releasing her hair and allowing the wind to play with it. Lysithea grumbles as the wind blows her own long locks back in her face. Byleth’s laughter only gets louder.  
  
_ “What are the odds,” _ Claude repeats himself. “ _ You’re friends with Annette, then?”  
  
_ Byleth nods, realising Claude won’t be able to see it so she adds, “Yes. I can’t envision you being friends with Felix so you’re probably Sylvain’s friend?”  
  
_ “Yeah! We used to be roomies back in college!”  _ Claude’s voice is excited and it makes Byleth smile.  
  
“Funny how our lives seem so intertwined yet we always miss each other.” Byleth allows her mind to wander to all the other coincidences between them.  
  
There was something interesting about the way Claude always seemed to be somewhere she would be too. The way he looks at her like he’s known her for years. The way Byleth can’t help but feel like she’s known him for years. Or at least met him once before. Before he caught her prancing around a stage she wasn’t supposed to be on.  
  
It’s a feeling that keeps coming back to haunt her, his green eyes, his lopsided grin. Everything about him feels familiar but she can’t place it.   
  
She knows one thing for sure, she wants to get to know him better. She wants familiarity to turn to intimacy. She wants to know what makes him tick, what makes him  _ him _ .   
  
_ “Funny, huh?” _ Claude sounds serious and Byleth feels a chill run down her spine. There’s a lilt to his voice, like he bit on a sour lemon and is trying to mask the taste. Like he doesn’t think it’s funny at all, but can’t bring himself to tell her. Like he knows more than he’s letting on.  
  
“Claude?” she asks, her voice slightly above a whisper that confuses Lysithea based on the way her eyebrows raise. Byleth quickly waves her off, only managing to deepen Lysithea’s frown.   
  
The line stays quiet and as Byleth prepares herself to call out Claude’s name again, he replies with a hasty  _ “It’s all good.” _ . It only unnerves Byleth more.   
  
As if sensing her unease, Claude sighs into his phone. “ _ We should probably talk about that soon. How about dinner?”  
  
_ “At my place?” Byleth asks immediately. This is the chance she had been waiting for, a moment to realise who he  _ truly  _ is. So what if she sounds desperate? Byleth wants answers and this might be one of her only chances to get them. Claude was as closed as a clamshell, perhaps even more closed because she doubts even fire would get him to open up.  
  
Claude’s laughter reaches her, slightly static but warm and boisterous. Byleth realises with a slight startle it’s genuine. _ “Eager are we?” _ Claude teases, and Byleth can imagine how his eyes twinkle.  _ “But sure, we can meet up at your place. Just text me the address and I’ll come over sometime when we’re both free.”  
  
_ Byleth’s heart kicks off an improvised drum solo as she hangs up on Claude to text him her address.   
  
“You are so smitten,” Lysithea comments, a small frown on her face. “I’ve never seen you this smitten before.”  
  
Byleth doesn’t know what to do so she smiles. “I really like him.”   
  
“That’s what worries me,” Lysithea mutters as Byleth texts Claude her address. She looks at Lysithea with a question in her eyes and Lysithea shakes her head. “It’s fine, let’s go home, I’m freezing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to put another note here to thank you guys for sticking around and still reading this. It means the world to me. 
> 
> Stay safe and have a great day! ♥


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth tells a story of a past long forgotten. Claude listens and makes a promise.

Byleth brushes down her skirt, feeling quite nervous as she waits for the doorbell to ring. It took them a bit of coordinating and clearing schedules, but it’s finally time for her next date with Claude. Byleth had tried to dress up slightly, wearing a pleated black skirt, matching black top and her favourite lacy leggings. It wasn’t very fancy but she hoped Claude would at least notice the subtle make-up Annette had struggled over video call to help her put on.   
  
The doorbell pulls her from her minor anxieties and she sprints to the front door. She opens it hastily, being met with a cheery “Hello!” and a bouquet of golden-yellow daisies.   
  
“Oh wow,” Byleth sighs as she takes the flowers from Claude in awe. “They’re beautiful!”  
  
Byleth is impressed by Claude’s look, a slightly fitted dark shirt with equally dark jeans. His hair is combed back, a few strands pulled into a braid at the side. Something about the braid makes her feel nostalgic but she can’t understand why.  
  
“You look nice,” she compliments him instead, hiding her face behind the flowers. She knows she’s bright red but doesn’t want him to tease her about it. She steps aside so Claude can enter the apartment.   
  
“I wanted to impress your cats,” he replies, his voice serious and Byleth feels like she swallowed a handful of butterflies.   
  
As if on cue, two of her cats make their way over to Claude, meowing at him as he walks towards the living room. “They’re cute!” he exclaims as he bends down to pet them.   
  
“Oh, your place is quite spacious!” Claude comments as he gets back up, looking around the room. He’s not hiding the fact he’s curious. Byleth wants to giggle, his enthusiasm reminding her of a child.  
  
“Feel free to look around while I make us both some tea.” Byleth puts the flowers down, making a mental note to put them into a vase later. She’d have to do some searching and digging around the apartment to find one, but that was a task for Byleth of the future.  
  
“You don’t have to tell me, I was planning on it anyway!” Claude’s laughter fills up her apartment and Byleth feels warmth envelop her as if she had put on a mantle of pure sunshine.   
  
It’s funny in a butterfly feeling in her stomach how Claude can do the simplest things but still fill her with so much warmth. _There’s a word for that_ , she hears a voice in her mind. She wills it to shut up.  
  
“You even have a study!” Claude’s voice is distant and Byleth stiffens slightly. “That’s self-care, splitting work and play.”  
  
“It used to be a bedroom.” She hears herself answer. Instantly, she can feel panic grab hold of her, like she’s a ragdoll being pulled on all sides. She isn’t ready to tell this story and yet, here she is, contemplating telling him everything.   
  
“Roommate?” Claude asks, his head peering back into the kitchen, his current exploration quest on hold. He seems interested in the story behind the bedroom-turned-study. Byleth wonders if the truth would disappoint him.  
  
“Sibling.” She keeps her back turned to him as she reaches into the cupboard to grab two mugs. “Younger sister, specifically. Her name was Sothis.”  
  
Byleth notices how she’s shaking, her fingers not quite grasping the mugs right. She truly isn’t ready to tell him the story; there’s no way she’ll be able to. But she _wants_ to.   
  
Claude doesn’t say anything, leaving her to her inner turmoil. But Byleth can feel his eyes drilling a hole in her back. She knows if she turns around she’ll be met with concern and worry. She doesn’t like to see those emotions in Claude’s eyes so she, maybe a bit selfishly, decides to keep her back turned to him.   
  
“She passed away five years ago. A month after my father did.” This she can tell, this is a fact. There’s no emotional attachment, Byleth can practically hear Sothis’ voice in her head, _“Just because it’s easy doesn’t make it right, you dummy”_. It’s been a while since she last allowed herself to hear her voice like this. “ _Not that long ago, silly girl.”_ comes Sothis’ voice and Byleth flinches almost instantly: had Sothis always sounded like that? It hadn’t been that long and here she was, shaken at the fact she now has to worry about such details. Would she even be able to remember her father’s voice?  
  
Byleth shakes her head, blinking away the beginning of tears. It’s not her place to cry, she cried long enough. Five years of grief, wasn’t she allowed to rest? To move on?   
  
Byleth takes a deep breath, feeling the way her lungs fill up and give her some clarity. The moment passes as she hears the seconds ticking away in the distance. Claude still hasn’t spoken a single word, which worries her.   
  
When Byleth turns around, two cups of hot tea in her hands and with a practised, neutral look on her face, she feels her heart breaking at Claude’s expression. His fists are curled, knuckles white. His mouth is pulled into a sharp line, the whirlpool of emotions he’s feeling reflected in how his eyes have clouded over.   
  
“Byleth, I am--”  
  
“Please don’t apologise or pity me.”   
  
Byleth walks past Claude, hoping he’ll follow her on his own accord. She puts the mugs on her coffee table, grateful when Claude sits down on the couch without her invitation. He pats the spot next to him and Byleth lets herself sink into the soft fabric of her couch. She allows Claude to pull her closer to him, his arms wrapping themselves around her, pushing her head into the crook of his neck.   
  
“I am so sorry for your losses,” Claude whispers into her hair. “That must’ve been so hard.”  
  
Byleth wonders what it is about him that makes her feel so vulnerable. Her arms weakly come up to clutch his shirt as she cries into his shoulder. What is it about Claude that makes her feel that it’s okay to cry, that it’s okay to feel everything she feels? How does he do it? But as Claude draws circles on her back, whispering sweet words of comfort into her hair, she forgets to question it.   
  
“The first day I went back here,” Byleth says, her eyes closed as Claude’s fingers trail over her back, “I sat on this couch and listened. I listened to the quiet.”  
  
Byleth remembers how empty her home suddenly felt. How different it felt from her home filled with smiles and laughter. Banter and warmth. It went from a home to a house. There was no one to say “welcome home” after she came back from an exhausting day at uni. No Jeralt to make her favourite meal, when he saw how tired she looked. No Sothis to shoot knowing glances her way if Jeralt hummed a song Byleth’s mother used to sing.   
  
Her home was a house and it was empty.   
  
Quiet.  
  
“I never realised that silence could be so deafening.” Byleth opens her eyes to look at Claude who looks at her like he knows. Like he understands. “There were no noises, there was nothing at all. No humming, no laughter. It was quiet.”  
  
Claude nods his head, wrapping his hands around hers. “It must’ve been jarring.”  
  
“It was exhausting.” Byleth leans forward into Claude’s space. He feels warm, his cologne inviting and comforting. “I miss them so much.”   
  
When Byleth looks up at Claude’s eyes, she sees his emerald eyes have clouded over. They’re watery and she wants to kiss away the tears before they fall. Instead, she pulls her right hand out of his, cupping his cheek.   
  
“Don’t cry,” she whispers, brushing her thumb across his cheek. Claude leans into her touch, closing his eyes.   
  
“I just remembered how lost I felt when my grandfather died.” His voice is even, maybe a bit slurred from how he presses his face into Byleth’s hand. He reminds her of her cats. “The world felt unfair, it was the worst. But I had my mother to pull me through it. I had my friends. You lost two people who mean the world to you in rapid succession. I can’t even imagine it.”  
  
Byleth runs her hands through his hair and Claude sighs. “I had Lysithea by my side,” Byleth shares. “I had my band for a bit. Until I pushed them away.”  
  
“Why did you push them away?” Claude murmurs.   
  
Byleth lets the question sink in. This is the hard part, this is admitting weakness. This is admitting she made a mistake, one she had struggled with for the past five years. A part of her that haunts her during her darkest nights when it was supposed to bring her light.   
  
Byleth takes a deep breath and looks at Claude. He returns her gaze with so much affection and understanding, she feels her worries lighten. They’re still there, pushing against her shoulder, making her chest feel heavy. But Claude nods at her encouragingly and she feels like she’s ready to try.  
  
“I couldn’t make music. Not anymore. The words and melodies abandoned me. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear them.”  
  
“What did you used to make music about before?” Claude sits up properly. He reaches for his tea and Byleth giggles at the face he pulls when he realises it has gone cold. He looks younger when he allows genuine emotions to show on his face.   
  
Byleth decides she likes that look on him. The boyish charm, the shift between mature comfort and childlike wonder. He shoots her a grin, and it sends her heart into overdrive.  
  
It’s a four-letter word that comes to mind and Byleth can almost see Sothis roll her eyes and spell it out for her. Yes, he’s _cute_ , sue her for thinking so.  
  
“Do you want me to heat it up for you?” Byleth asks, moving to get up from the couch. “It’ll be microwaved but that’s okay, isn’t it?”  
  
Claude pulls her back gently, shaking his head. “That’s quite alright, I’d rather hear your story. Tell me about your band, please.”  
  
“Well, I told you before.” Byleth gets up from the couch anyway, walking over to her bookcase. “I was in a band called Silent Screams. There were four other girls and me. We met in high school and stuck together until I abandoned them in college.”   
  
Byleth bends down to grab a photo album of the lowest shelf, hidden far from sight. She winces at the layer of dust on the cover and blows it away. She hasn’t opened that album in forever, she thinks, as the dust whirls back into her face. She sneezes twice in rapid succession, ignoring Claude’s little chuckles.   
  
“Oh hush,” Byleth admonishes, her smile removing any semblance of intimidation or anger. “I generally don’t like thinking about this era of my life.”  
  
Claude looks at her pensively, a frown forming on his face. “I can always find out on my own.”   
  
Byleth feels the world stop for a split second. He’ll find out on his own? But _how?_ "What do you mean by that?” she asks, her voice quivering slightly.   
  
“Oh, nothing.” Claude summons an easy smile but Byleth feels something akin to anger boil under her skin.  
  
“Don’t dismiss me.” Byleth takes big strides to tower over Claude. She points a finger at him, pressing dangerously close to his chest. She likes being able to tower over him for once. “I know you have your shady business, don’t insult me. If you want to know something about me, you _will_ ask me. I do not want you snooping around in memories that are mine and mine to share.”  
  
Claude blinks up at her, his mouth falling open. He composes himself slowly, closing his mouth and nods. “I am sorry.”   
  
“Good.” Byleth drops down next to him, photo album on her lap. “Now, be mindful this was in high school, I don’t want to hear anything about our outfits or hair.”  
  
Claude smiles widely, scooting closer to Byleth so their thighs touch. “That’s alright, everyone looks like a mess in high school.”  
  
“I bet you still looked handsome,” Byleth mumbles, flipping open the photo album. She quickly flips the pages until she’s at her time in high school, skipping past her embarrassing childhood pictures.   
  
The first picture that catches her eye is one of her and Sothis. Sothis has a pout on her face, a stark contrast to Byleth’s smile. Byleth wonders what the story was behind the picture. She pulls the album closer to examine the background and sees the mess of their kitchen.   
  
“Ah, the Cupcake Incident,” she whispers. Her fingers drag over the picture and she quickly flips the page. She looks up to Claude, who seems frozen in time.   
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Claude seems pulled from his crystal stasis as soon as Byleth finishes her question. His cheeks are dusted with pink, flush with something Byleth can’t figure out. Was it something she said?   
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Claude points at the album, “Is that you?”  
  
Byleth allows her gaze to linger on Claude for a touch longer, but he is determined not to meet her eyes. She sighs, breaking contact to see who Claude is pointing at. She cringes slightly at her haircut and horrible outfit.   
  
“Yes, that’s me.”  
  
Claude chuckles. “The dark hair suits you, was it dyed?”  
  
“No, that’s my natural colour actually.” Byleth twirls a strand of pastel green hair around her fingers. “I started dyeing it after Sothis died. I can’t quite get her shade of green down but it makes me feel less lonely having my hair like this.”  
  
Claude makes a noise, flipping the pages himself now. He looks up from another picture of Sothis and Byleth to Byleth. He carefully runs his fingers through the lower strands of Byleth’s hair.  
  
It sends shivers down Byleth’s entire body. She’s afraid to say anything to ruin the moment so she lets Claude play with her hair, enjoying the way it feels. The familiarity of it all.  
  
“So that’s the band?” he asks as he turns the page and finds their first group picture.  
  
Byleth remembers the memory fondly. Jeralt had snapped the shot when he had gone to check up on the girls in the garage. Jeralt loved music and had made no objections when Byleth asked to turn the garage into a makeshift studio. He would check up on them every so often, helping them take care of their equipment.   
  
Byleth’s hair was shorter there, cut haphazardly, credits to Jeralt. Edelgard’s hair was a lovely shade of brown, tied up in twintails. Byleth was always jealous of how her twintails didn’t steal away from her mature charms. Edelgard was caught off guard by having their picture taken, her expression scrunched up in surprise. Dorothea had slung her arm around her neck, throwing up a peace sign at the camera. She grinned widely, something she didn’t do often, Byleth recalls, her braces on full display.  
  
Behind them, Hilda held up her drumsticks. Her hair was tied up in twintails similar to Edelgard, just considerably shorter. Hilda had her tongue out, owning up to the playful image her twintails gave her. Leonie was sitting more to the front, scowling as she often did. Her bangs had suffered the same fate as Byleth’s hair. Byleth suppresses a snicker, remembering how proud Jeralt had been of that particular haircut. Obviously Leonie loved it, as she did with anything Jeralt did.   
  
“Yep, that’s us.” Byleth smiles, ignoring how _close_ Claude’s face is to hers now that he looks at her. There was only a hair’s width between their noses, so close that the smallest change would have them lip-locked. Before her thoughts run away with her, Byleth looks down at the photo. “That’s Edelgard and Dorothea, they were joined at the hip. The pink-haired girl is Hilda, she was in my class. She was the glue that kept us together, honestly. And this is Leonie, she had the most spirit. I butted heads with her a lot.”  
  
Claude laughs at that, the sound brash and loud. Byleth quite enjoys the sound now, it’s melodious. It’s warm and inviting. Most importantly, it was _genuine_.   
  
“I can’t imagine you butting heads with anyone,” Claude says, wiping his eyes. He smiles kindly and Byleth quickly turns her head down to point at another picture, hoping her blush isn’t too obvious.   
  
She feels like she’s twelve again with a crush. She can hear Sothis going “ _You are a child with a crush_ ,” something she’s admitted before but is still unable to verbalise without combusting. It’s easier to distract herself so she tells Claude about her life instead.  
  
“For some strange reason we both fought for my father’s affection. Then you add Sothis to the power struggle and it was a mess.” Byleth points at another picture. It’s her favourite family photo.   
  
“Is that your father?” Claude leans closer to look at the picture. “You have your father’s smile.”   
  
Byleth’s eyes tear up at that. “Oh, thank you. People always said I look nothing like him.”  
  
It’s the picture she has saved on her phone and looks at whenever she feels sad or lonely. She’s sitting on the couch with Sothis, who is sporting her usual pouty expression. Byleth sports a similar expression and Jeralt has his hands on their shoulders grinning widely. She can’t for the life of her remember what she and Sothis had been fighting over, but she knows it probably didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.   
  
Claude gives her a clumsy and awkward pat on her head. “It sucks when people say you look nothing like the people you love. I’m sorry, friend.”  
  
Byleth unconsciously leans into Claude’s space, her neck bent in a way that’s bound to hurt if she keeps it up much longer but feels too relaxed to move. “I appreciate that,” she whispers and Claude puts his arm around her, pulling her closer.   
  
“No problem,” he replies, pressing his lips against her hair.   
  
It makes Byleth’s heart burst. The sheer amount of _affection_ in the gesture sends her heart into overdrive. It sends tingles down her spine, her mind humming a melody she’s never heard before.   
  
“Ah.” Claude freezes mid-motion, his lips still pressed against her hair. “I’m so--  
  
“Don’t be.” Byleth quickly cuts him off, leaning back far enough so she can see him clearly. “It’s okay. I liked that.”   
  
Claude’s cheeks turn from rosy to fire truck red and Byleth doesn’t need a mirror to know her cheeks share the same fate. They’re still very close together, Claude towers over her slightly but close enough she can see the slight tremble of his lip.   
  
“Byleth.” Claude’s voice is strained, like he’s holding himself back. “You know you can back out, right?”   
  
Byleth can’t help her lips from pulling into a grin. She knows she looks cocky, nothing like her normal self because Claude’s eyes widen slightly before he lets out a chuckle.   
  
“I know,” she replies, “I don’t want to, though.”  
  
Claude sighs in relief, as if to say _finally_ and he leans in closer. He checks with her one more time, his eyes asking for permission which Byleth gives with a barely noticeable nod. But Claude notices, like he notices all the tiny things about her. His lips curl into the grin Byleth adores before he finds her lips instead. 

***

They’re snuggled up against each other when Claude breaks the comfortable silence. He points at the photo album that has been forgotten on the table, his voice soft as he asks, “Can we continue looking at it some more?”  
  
Byleth’s head is still spinning from their kiss and the realisation they’re truly together now, so she takes a while to compute the question. “Huh?” is the response her brain settles on after a few minutes of effort.  
  
Claude laughs, reaching over to pick up their tea mugs. “I’ll put these in the kitchen, is that okay?”  
  
Byleth watches Claude shuffles to the kitchen, her cheeks still hot from their earlier kisses. Once Claude realised he had a free pass, he didn’t stop. She presses her hands to her cheeks, surprised by the amount of heat radiating off them.   
  
The sound of a camera snaps her out of her thoughts and she pouts at Claude.   
  
“Why do you always take candid pictures of me?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. Claude doesn’t answer her and instead ruffles her hair as he sits down next to her. Byleth allows herself to be pulled closer to him, and Claude repeats his earlier question.  
  
“Can we look at the photos some more?”  
  
Byleth nods, pulling the album on her lap. She opens to a later stage of the Silent Screams saga. The garage is upgraded as is their equipment. Their appearances are slightly different too. Byleth’s hair is longer, reaching roughly around her elbows. Hilda’s hair has grown to the same length, whereas Edelgard has cut hers shorter. She traded her twintails for two purple ribbons keeping her hair out of her face. Dorothea’s hair was up in two space buns, not properly reflecting just how long her hair was. Leonie still had her hair cut by Jeralt regularly and looked as roughened as anyone could expect. The bangs really weren’t flattering at all.  
  
Byleth grins at the image. What a hot mess they were.  
  
“Tell me about the name Silent Screams? Where did that come from?” Claude asks, pointing at the bad graffiti on the back wall of the garage.  
  
“We all felt like we had something to scream about back then,” Byleth reminisces. “Hilda wanted to get away from her father and brother, who monitored her every step. It was with love, sure, but that didn’t make it any easier on her. Dorothea was tired of people only appreciating her for her looks. She was so much more, but people never bothered to look.”  
  
Claude makes an affirmative noise, reaching for her hand gently. He strokes his thumb over the back of her hand, urging her to continue. Byleth relishes in the open sign of affection, briefly wondering why they held off on these small touches for so long. She picks herself up and continues her story.  
  
“Leonie was done with the inequality she kept facing. She comes from a small village, you know. She gave herself the Herculean task of repaying them for getting her to the city, but I think the burden was heavier than she made it out to be. Edelgard had so much to scream about. Her father was trying to force her to take over the family company with no regard for her own wishes and dreams. Then she had her growing crush on Dorothea and worried about the way her father would respond to that kind of love. I think she might have had it the hardest out of all of us.”  
  
Claude brings her hand up, pressing quick kisses to her fingertips. His lips leave a trail of sparks underneath her skin and Byleth wonders if this is what starbursts feel like. “What about you? Why did you wanna scream, Byleth?”  
  
Byleth shakes her head, “You know, I wouldn’t even know. Maybe to show people I know how to scream? That I do feel. That I have emotions buzzing below the surface of my skin, waiting to crawl out.” She turns to Claude, feeling overwhelmed by the affection in his eyes, “I just wanted to scream back then. I wanted to have fun, forget about life, forget about what people said.”  
  
Claude nods his head as if he understands. Byleth thinks he does. “Would you like to scream again?”  
  
Byleth nods before she realises what she’s doing. Tears form in the corner of her eyes as she rests her head on Claude’s shoulder, “There’s nothing I want more than that.”  
  
She can feel the sharp breath Claude draws. He drags his fingers over her back, following a pattern of circles. “Let’s make it happen then.”  
  
Byleth turns to him, her brows furrowed together. She shakes her head, “I don’t know where everyone is.”  
  
Claude shoots her a smile, roguishly handsome and Byleth’s heart skips a beat. “Don’t worry about it Byleth, I’ll make it happen.” He takes both of her hands in his and holds them tightly. He brings them up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and Byleth draws in a sharp breath. He looks up at her from below his eyelashes and Byleth feels herself grow hotter and hotter. “I promise you, I’ll make it happen.”  
  
They sit in silence. Claude’s emerald eyes shine with determination, something between admiration and reverence. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and finally nods her head.   
  
“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for sticking around for so long!  
> This chapter marked the end of the first act and we're on our way to act 2! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, thank you for your continued support, kudos and comments. They mean the world to me!
> 
> I hope to see you again next month. Stay safe and I hope you're having a good day. If today did not treat you kindly, I hope tomorrow is more kind instead. ♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude has a realisation.

Claude groans as he drops face down on his bed. His limbs hang off the side, the tips of his feet barely touching the cold wooden floors. His hands come up to blindly grab his pillow and shove it into his face. He yells, the sound muffled by his pillow and he stays like that for a while.   
  
On the bed beside him, Lorenz clicks his tongue.   
  
It pulls Claude out of his shoujo manga moment and he sends an angry glare in his roommate’s direction. “Did you have to ruin it?” he asks, pushing himself up into a sitting position.   
  
Lorenz stares at him blankly, elegantly putting a strand of his hair behind his ear. After a few uncomfortable seconds where neither of them look away, Lorenz returns his attention to his book. 1-0 to House Riegan.   
  
Claude squints to read the title, the extravagant font making it harder for him. It’s a title he doesn’t recognise, so he gets up and drops down on Lorenz’ bed to snatch it from his friend.   
  
“Claude!” Lorenz doesn’t try to hide his irritation and exhaustion of having to deal with him and kicks him off the bed without hesitation. Unprepared, Claude yelps as he tries his best to break his fall and ends up reaching for Lorenz’ outstretched leg.   
  
A few grunts and muffled curses later, both men find themselves tangled on the floor.   
  
Claude recovers first, picking up Lorenz’ book and beelining for his bed. Lorenz takes his time getting up, dusting himself off before rising to his full height. He takes three big steps to bridge the distance to Claude’s side of the room, pointing his finger at him. His cheeks are red and Claude knows he’s seconds away from getting another lecture.   
  
“Will you please act like you’re the official heir to Riegan Enterprises so I can get some satisfaction out of overtaking your family’s company instead of feeling like I’m stealing candy from a snot-nosed brat?!” Lorenz whisper-yells, looking down at an unimpressed Claude.  
  
“Oh, we’re throwing titles around now, are we?” Claude hands Lorenz his book back, having skimmed the back and concluded the book contains no information he doesn’t already know. Lorenz sighs at him, holding the bridge of his nose.  
  
“I apologise, I might be a bit on edge since we are banned from entering the living room.” Lorenz takes the book, his shoulders slightly slumped as he goes back to his bed.  
  
“Well, Hilda never said we weren’t allowed to enter.” Claude crosses his arms behind his head, “I just don’t want to see her making out with Mari on the couch again.” Lorenz makes an affirmative noise from his side of the room. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? We don’t get to bring anyone home without her permission and yet. There she is rubbing it in like she’s won her share of the lottery.”  
  
“Marianne is a wonderful person.” Lorenz’ voice is soft as he stares at his book. Claude realises he hasn’t turned the page in a while. “I am happy that Hilda makes her happy.”  
  
“Do you still have feelings for her?” Claude asks, he purposely stares at the calendar taped to the side of his closet facing his bed. Upcoming Saturday is circled in green, his next date with Byleth. It makes him giddy when he thinks about it. He needs to pick up a gift still. She seemed to like the flowers but gifting too many flowers would be overkill, wouldn’t it? Byleth didn’t seem interested in opening up her own flower shop.   
  
Meanwhile, Lorenz says nothing for the longest time. He closes his book after placing a bookmark in and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just know my heart doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I can handle seeing them together at least.”  
  
Claude remembers clearly how big of a crush Lorenz had fostered for Marianne. They had gotten to know each other at a party Hilda hosted. How Hilda managed to invite Marianne is still a mystery to Claude. He just knows that once Marianne entered the scene, Lorenz dropped all his elegance and wit on the floor. Lorenz never got crushes, never fell for others without getting to know them, but he appreciated beauty like no other.   
  
And Claude had to admit, Marianne is beautiful. Her soft eyes, gentle laugh. He understood the appeal, even if it didn’t necessarily appeal to him. Lorenz had tried the entire evening to get her contact information, ultimately succeeding when the two realised their shared love for horseback riding.   
  
Claude had always mocked Lorenz for his love for horseback riding, calling him a “wannabe horse girl” but then he found his match in Marianne who was equally obsessed. Claude had to admit defeat and true to his nature, he had given them his blessing. That was before he realised there was one fatal flaw in giving them his blessing.   
  
Marianne was very obviously not into men. She was very obviously into women, and one pink-haired woman in particular. While Lorenz had spent the entire evening chasing her contact information, Hilda had only fluttered her eyelids twice and Marianne had practically thrown her number at her. Claude distinctly remembers Hilda coming back to him with a smug look of surprise “I can’t believe she’s into me,” and he kicks himself for not realising what was happening right then and there.  
  
Claude supposes in hindsight there were two fatal flaws to the plan: the fact Lorenz was so infatuated with Marianne, meant he failed to notice the first flaw. Lorenz was a loyal type of guy, he was faithful to his crush on Marianne. Claude had tried to gently break it to him that his crush on Marianne was going to go unrequited until Hilda had casually told them during dinner she was going on a date with Marianne the next day.   
  
Ever the gentleman, Lorenz assisted her in assembling her outfit. Claude is convinced he did the same thing for Marianne, based on the fact the girls’ outfits matched a little too well. He had never confirmed it with Lorenz, who had been polite as Hilda came back excited and no longer single.  
  
Claude would never say it, mostly because Lorenz would never let him, but he did feel bad for his friend. He couldn’t imagine going through that. The thought of Byleth being into someone else drove a pin through his chest. The pin twists at the mere thought of giving advice and acting as a wingman.   
  
Lorenz deserved a medal for that.   
  
Claude allows his thoughts to dwell and naturally he finds himself thinking about Byleth. He wonders what she’s doing right now. Probably working, he thinks, the urge to reach for his phone and text her strong. But he shouldn’t, he mentally reprimands himself, she’s working and busy.  
  
“How is your Mystery Woman doing?” Lorenz asks, dragging Claude from his thoughts. “You were home late last night.”  
  
“Oh, are you accusing me of secret trysts now?” Claude snickers as Lorenz blushes fervently. “What kind of books have you been reading?”   
  
Lorenz sputters out half sentences and Claude laughs. The sound bubbles up from his stomach and he runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I met up with her. We talked about her past. I learned she really doesn’t remember me to be part of it.”  
  
“That must be difficult.”   
  
Claude doesn’t know what to do with that. It feels weird and strange to be met with pity from Lorenz. It makes him uncomfortable to admit such a vulnerable piece of himself. It makes Claude feel even more respect for Lorenz and how he dealt with his heartbreak.   
  
As if he senses Claude’s discomfort, Lorenz gets up from his bed. He walks over to their bedroom door, leaning closer as if listening to the girls. “I wish they would just hang out in Hilda’s room or something.”   
  
Claude is silently grateful for Lorenz’ attempts to defuse the tension in the room. He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings, doesn’t want to discuss the pain of loving someone, losing them, finding them and having to start from point zero.   
  
Because it  _ is _ difficult. It hurts like hell.   
  
And Claude doesn’t want to carry those negative feelings by himself.   
  
“It is difficult,” he admits reluctantly, folding his legs underneath him. He holds onto his ankles as he watches Lorenz walk back to his bed. “I had wanted to tell her about me. About our past. ”   
  
_ About how cute she was and how much fun we had as kids. How she would get twigs and leaves stuck in her hair, how she would outclimb me but let me win from time to time. All those little things.   
  
_ “But you didn’t?” Lorenz supplies and when Claude nods, he sighs. “Knowing you, you probably had a good reason.”  
  
“Yeah, we ended up kissing instead.” Claude laughs as Lorenz chokes on air, the sound brash and loud. He faintly remembers Byleth telling him she likes the way he laughs. That it makes her feel  _ home _ . It makes his heart ache and his chest draw tighter. “No I’m for real, we did. But it was also seeing her talk about her own past, talking about all the things she’s lost. It almost didn’t feel right to rub in that she lost me once before too.”  
  
“But you wanted to tell her, didn’t you?” Lorenz asks, “Don’t you think she’ll be upset if you tell her later on? She deserves to know.”  
  
Claude mulls it over, worrying his lip beneath his teeth. Right as he’s about to answer Lorenz, his phone buzzes. Claude reaches for it, his lips forming a smile before he realises it when he sees Byleth’s name on the screen.   
  
“Is that her?” Lorenz tries to be nonchalant, but it does not hide his nosiness. Claude decides to ignore him. While he trusts Lorenz, he also feels he’s entitled to a certain level of privacy.   
  
Instead, he opens the message impatiently, waiting for the video to load. There is no accompanying text, just a 2-minute video. Claude’s finger hovers above the preview, waiting for the little pixels to turn into an image he can understand.   
  
But once he can see the preview properly, he realises he’s worried to click it. He can see the shape of a guitar and some strands of green hair - his breath hitches in his throat.  
  
He takes a deep breath and clicks play. The soothing melody of an acoustic guitar fills the bedroom, the tune soft and gentle. Claude realises with a startle it was the song he heard Byleth hum when they were on their way back from the Golden Deer, intrigued as her fingers pick up speed and the melody morphs into something new.   
  
It’s faster, more powerful and it has the kind of raw energy Claude does not have the musical knowledge to explain. But it’s something familiar. Like a wash of energy he has come to know. Byleth’s vocals slowly compete with the melody, her voice uneven and shaky. As the song picks up, so does the confidence in Byleth’s voice and Claude understands exactly why she must’ve been a sight to behold on stage. Even now, only being able to see the lower half of her face, he thinks she’s radiant.   
  
The lyrics fly past him, words about giving up and finding new hope nestle themselves in his mind. Words about power in vulnerability. Words about how getting back up is the hardest thing to do once you’ve fallen down. How losing everything is no reason to abandon what you have left.   
  
About how a scream only becomes silent when you let it.  
  
Claude doesn’t realise he’s tearing up until Lorenz coughs awkwardly. He furiously wipes at his eyes, almost having forgotten Lorenz was in the room with him.  
  
“She has a nice voice,” Lorenz comments offhandedly.  
  
Claude turns to him, having lost all command over the language he so fluently speaks and makes his own daily.  
  
“She sounds familiar though,” Lorenz continues, discomfort finding its home in his expression. “She’s not the vocalist from Hilda’s old band, is she?”  
  
Lorenz sighs deeply as Claude’s silence is an answer all on its own. Claude puts his phone down and turns to Lorenz. “You absolutely cannot tell Hilda about this.”  
  
Lorenz raises his eyebrow at him, “You mean to tell me you want me to lie to Hilda? Me?”  
  
“I want you to keep a secret. I plan on telling her soon. I just needed to be sure things would work out between us.”  
  
“I cannot lie to Hilda?! She will have found me out before I can get the first word out!”  
  
Lorenz looks appalled and Claude can’t blame him. It wasn’t like Claude to keep secrets from Hilda. Sure, he didn’t tell her  _ everything _ that happened in his life. Most of his past was a mystery to everyone but him. His side job? Also a secret. Although Claude has the nagging feeling Lorenz at least has an inkling what he does besides run the Golden Deer.   
  
Usually his nagging feelings turn out to be right.  
  
“Do me a favour,” Claude says instead, hoping he can entice Lorenz into doing him this favour if he offers an interesting enough proposition. “I’ll do your share of the dishes for a week, anything chore-related, just don’t tell Hilda.”  
  
Lorenz seems to consider the proposition but ultimately shakes his head. “Claude, I am not going to lie to Hilda for you, it goes against everything I am.”  
  
Claude clicks his tongue, the sound harsh and filled with annoyance. He hates doing this, considers it a low blow but desperate times call for desperate measures and all those other excuses to ease the guilt that’s slowly creeping up on him. “I have kept your feelings for Marianne a secret this entire time. You owe me this.”  
  
Lorenz looks horrified and it hurts Claude slightly to see him this upset. Lorenz’ shock morphs to anger and he turns his nose up at Claude. “You are a despicable person and a truly sorry excuse for a friend.”  
  
“Do we have a deal?” Claude ploughs through, ignoring the look of betrayal Lorenz sends him. Lorenz says nothing, looking at Claude with increasing contempt. His colour changes to a fiery red, doing nothing to mask the anger and hurt Lorenz must be feeling. Claude really doesn’t want to do this, but he doesn’t have a choice. “I asked, do we have a deal?”  
  
“Yes we do!” Lorenz snaps at him, picking up his book again. “Just know I cannot wait until I take over Riegan Enterprises because you do  _ not  _ deserve to be its heir. You are a sly and shady person and I hope Hilda burns you to the ground when she finds out you’ve been lying to her to go play hooky with her ex-bandmate.”  
  
“She’ll burn us both alive if she finds out you knew and didn’t tell her to save your own hide.” Claude watches Lorenz huff and pretends his heart doesn’t hurt at the sight of it.   
  
Claude does not like being this mean to Lorenz. He does not get any joy out of blackmailing his friends nor is he looking forward to the prospect of hiding his relationship with Byleth from Hilda for the unforeseeable future. But he doesn’t feel like he has a choice.  
  
Claude does not like having multiple loose ends. He is more than capable of overseeing the different lines he’s set out in his ambitions and relationships with others. But that’s only when he has complete control over them. When he knows where every line connects because he was the one who drew them, he is in his element. He can maintain control when there are others drawing lines too. But when too many people decide to rummage through his box of pens and draw a plethora of coloured lines, overlapping and intermingling, Claude will forcefully take people’s pens and put them in time-out.   
  
Claude was the heir to a carefully crafted company with as many sister branches as he has connections. He did not survive on his wit and quick thinking for this long just to be brought down by his rival. To falter in the face of romance.  
  
Claude sighs and shakes his head. This is why he had never bothered with romance. Why he kept his circle of close friends small. There is so much risk involved in keeping these kinds of lines separated. People did whatever they wanted, he couldn’t very well take people’s pens like this.  
  
He looks over at Lorenz and feels that pain in his chest again. He would have to return his friend’s pen eventually, but Claude really couldn’t afford to take any chances here. He still needed Byleth, even if she had grown to be more than what he had initially planned for her to be.   
  
Claude turns his gaze back to his phone and plays the clip again. He notices more now. He notices the little smirks as Byleth pulls off moves he wonders if he could replicate even after years of practice. He sees the little cuts on her fingers and brightly coloured bandages that feel so out of character he can’t help but smile.   
  
The smile is followed by worries; what if she had hurt herself while practising? Were those cuts normal? Claude wouldn’t know, he’s no musician. Would she at least have taken care of them properly? Did more guitarists suffer that fate? He knows Hilda would complain about blisters from holding her drumsticks the wrong way often. She still practised daily, and had explained to him that practising often reduced the chance of blisters and wounds because her hands would’ve gotten used to it. Did that mean that Byleth truly had not touched a guitar in years? That she truly had abandoned the one thing that meant most to her?   
  
Claude can’t imagine that.   
  
Claude can’t imagine giving up the thing that meant most to him in the world. That would be like giving up his dreams and his goals. His ambitions. To willingly give away his own pens and allow others to draw the lines for him.  
  
The thought alone sends a shudder to wreck his body. With it comes the realisation once more that Byleth has gone through so much and it hurts him. It hurts Claude more than he’s willing to admit, more than he’s willing to acknowledge. Because there’s guilt and fear in that realisation. In realising he befriended her for his own gains, just to have fate laugh in his face and pull out feelings he thought he had long buried. The memories he had worked so hard to forget but are somehow adamant to be remembered. Especially when he’s near her.   
  
It unnerves him, and he hates admitting that maybe, just maybe, the lines have been jumbled up from the very start.  
  
Claude drops his phone on to his lap, the sixth rewatch of the two-minute clip playing in the background and looks over to Lorenz.  
  
“Hey, Lorenz,” he starts, pleasantly surprised when Lorenz spares him a glance. He doesn’t mind the slightly raised eyebrow and the tilt of his head that screams ‘how dare you speak to me’. He deserved that one. “I’m thoroughly fucked, aren’t I?”  
  
Lorenz’ stern expression breaks as he quickly suppresses the grin that dared to come out, “Language Claude, language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my beta who supports me through everything. i couldn't do this without you.
> 
> Thank you guys for reading and for the comments and the kudos! It means the world to me! I hope you have a wonderfully nice morning, day, evening and night! Please take care of yourself and stay safe! ♥


End file.
